The latest issue of Smithsonian magazine features a brief history of the First Battle of Bull Run (First Manassas for our southern friends) to commemorate the 150th anniversary of the battle on July 21.
In the "From the Editor" column, the author, Ernest B. Ferguson, a former Marine, a former columnist for the Baltimore Sun, and the author of four books about the Civil War, was asked for his view as to what readers should take away from the story of Bull Run.
"I think simply to be reminded of how important all this was. And the courage that went into battles, from top to bottom, is something I'm struck by every time I work on one of these projects."
Yeah, okay, that's maybe item five and six on the list of take-aways. And his article about the generals and the tactics of the battle was a decent forensic, textbook overview of what happened. But don't look for any real insight into the consequences of that first major fight of the war.
What Ferguson should have said was that First Bull Run began with dashing flair and a rah-rah gusto for war -- picnickers lounging on the hillside above the rookie armies -- and ended with a harrowing, chaotic slaughterhouse indicative of Total War; the foreshadowing of an unprecedented conflict that would last much longer and far bloodier than anyone could have imagined (other than Tecumseh Sherman who was labeled as crazy for predicting such a war). It was a sucker punch in the gut of every American who wagered it would be a gallant adventure blessed by divine providence. Bull Run ended all that and inaugurated a series of terrifying spectacles of horror that seemed interminable.
First Bull Run spelled it all out.
And yeah, okay, there were courageous soldiers and it was, um, important. That. Too.
I feel bad singling out Ferguson. The reality is, too many historians are overly focused on which unit moved where and who outflanked whom, they miss the whole point. It's too bad.