The muffled drum’s sad roll has beat
The soldier’s last Tattoo;
No more on life’s parade shall meet
That brave and fallen few.
On Fame’s eternal camping ground
Their silent tents are spread,
And glory guards, with solemn round
The bivouac of the dead.
It is a most appropriate ode to not only the cemetery at Shiloh, but the entire battlefield. I spent a weekend visiting Shiloh and going over the battlefield.
The battle of Shiloh is the climactic scene in the third book of my series Duty, Honor, Country: Sumter to Shiloh. In fact, somewhere in the land that became the cemetery, on the first night of the battle, Ulysses S. Grant sat under an oak tree in the rain, contemplating whether to withdraw after horrendous losses that day, or fight on the next day. Also, somewhere on that land, was a wood cabin where surgeons plied their bloody trade and a scene in that cabin changes the course of history.
At its conclusion, Shiloh produced more casualties in two days than all previous American Wars combined. Walking over this hallowed ground was humbling. I walked the entire length of the Sunken Road (which really isn’t sunken) that was the front edge of the Hornet’s Nest, where Union troops repelled eleven Confederate assaults. Until 62 cannon were lined hub to hub, producing the greatest artillery barrage ever seen on the continent and the Union line was broken.
I walked around tiny Bloody Pond, just behind the sunken road, where casualties from both sides crawled, desperate for water on a hot April day. I stood at the spot where General Albert Sidney Johnston was shot, still the highest ranking American officer ever to be killed in combat.
All of this is quite strange for a place called Shiloh, which means ‘place of peace’.