Defeated Victory
"The horrible sights that I have witnessed on this field I can never describe." Major General James A. Garfield
In the early afternoon Hardcastle marched his men to a captured Union camp. He had asked for and received permission to withdraw off the front line to rest and resupply. The 3rd Mississippi Battalion had been fighting since just before 5:00 A. M. and now, just after noon, the men were tired, hungry, and out of ammunition. Arriving at the edge of camp, the men were halted and ordered to fall out and tend to their needs. As the fighting had passed through this place earlier, in its wake were the signs of a titanic struggle. Some tents were torn down completely while others were shot full of holes. Commissary wagons, traveling forges, and artillery limbers were scattered about, motionless, tethered in place by dead horses still in harness, heaped one upon the other. Strewn among the camps were Union soldiers, shot down in the heat of battle, still in place where they fell hours earlier. So too were scattered about the woods bodies in butternut and gray uniforms lying at odd angles, pitching forward to the forest floor after being struck by an exploding artillery shell. There were also those corpses, contorted and disfigured, whose uniform was torn open and shirt un-bloused by the hands of the deceased just before he died in a desperate attempt to see if he’d been “gut shot” which meant almost certain death. All about the men of Hardcastle’s Battalion were the sober reminders of the hot work of the morning of April 6th. The afternoon promised to be no different.
​
While John Henry and Albert’s battalion was taking a much deserved rest feasting on captured Yankee breakfast, the battle was still raging all through the woods past Shiloh church and beyond the Corinth Road. Now the boys would have been able to hear the growing intensity of musketry and artillery to their right toward the river. Unknown to them at this point would have been just exactly what the rising sounds of battle meant.
Jubilant Victory
​
Union Brigadier General W.H.L. Wallace was not a professional soldier and was a new division commander. Yet it was Wallace that began offering the first stubborn resistance to the Confederate onslaught. He had managed to form a defensive line along an old sunken road that would forever more be immortalized as ‘The Hornets’ Nest.’ It was the sound of this stiffening resistance that would have been heard by Hardcastle’s men now resupplying in the rear. Within the hour or so the 3rd Mississippi had been away, Brigadier General Wood, Colonel Shaver, and Brigadier General Thomas Hindman had all been wounded and disabled. Brigadier General A. P. Stewart had taken command of Hindman’s Division. Casualties began to mount. Shiloh was becoming a real fight and the battle was becoming desperate on both sides. Regiments had been splintered and brigades shattered. Stewart’s command was a patchwork of various units from Wood’s, Shaver’s, and Cleburne’s brigades cobbled together in an effort to maintain the momentum enjoyed by the South thus far on the field.
​
In an effort to break the increasingly stubborn Union defense of the Hornets’ Nest, Brigadier General Daniel Ruggles amassed 62 artillery pieces along the edge of the woods lining a cleared field fronting the sunken road. Around 3:00 P.M. the Confederate artillery opened up. The sound was so thunderous and the noise so deafening that it was heard as far away as Saltillo, Mississippi sixty miles away and shook the glass window panes in Corinth, Mississippi twenty miles away. Having received no orders, Hardcastle’s since of duty prevailed upon his thoughts and he reformed the men and moved the 3rd Mississippi Battalion toward the sound of the guns. Approaching a vast array of guns and having no direct authority above him, he fell in with the 13th Tennessee of Russell’s Brigade which were ordered to support Ruggles’ line of artillery. Once again, I can “see” what John Henry and Albert saw as I read the words of Major Hardcastle: “When we arrived there I was told by the colonel that General Bragg wished us to remain there, but, if outnumbered by the enemy, to fall back to another battery just in the rear. The Sixteenth Alabama, Fifty-fifth Tennessee, and another regiment assembled here after a short time. This place was in front of an old field, sloping down, and was the hardest-won position of the enemy.”
​
About 5:30 P.M. the long beleaguered Union defense finally collapsed and General Wallace was killed as the Federal troops tried to fight their way out of “Hell’s Hollow.” Southerners poured through the woods and thickets, unfolding on the flanks creating an ever enclosing wall of gray uniforms. The Union troops defending the sunken lane had been fighting for their lives nonstop for nearly eleven hours. They were exhausted beyond endurance; most had been without water for hours, some all day as they fled from their camp without pausing to grab a canteen. Many were walking wounded and perhaps most debilitating of all, their mental state was beginning to break down. The constant fear of death heightened with each assault as Southern men came forward with thousands of voices projecting their unearthly howl. At last this was too much. With all hope gone and almost completely surrounded, General Benjamin Prentiss surrendered almost 2,500 men. The Union center had fallen. Major General Ulysses S. Grant’s Army of the Tennessee was in serious danger of being severed in two.
​
I wonder what must have been my ancestors’ state of mind at this point. I doubt they had ever been this close to their enemy. Now they looked them in the face. The men they had been fighting for close to thirteen hours were now their prisoners. John Henry and his Uncle Albert, and the rest of the 3rd Mississippi Battalion along with the 16th Alabama and 55th Tennessee were detailed to march the prisoners away from the field of battle back to Michie’s farmhouse which had been pressed into dual service as a hospital and point of internment. Once again Hardcastle describes the scene: “At 5 P.M. Adjutant McClung detailed me to guard the prisoners. We marched with them to the field in front of White House hospital and encamped, exposed to the rain all night.”
​
The Last Stand of Desperate Men
​
The defense of the Hornets’ Nest had bought General Grant time with which he established a final defensive line. Here he put in every available resource he had not already committed on the field bracing for the imminent attack that was sure to come. Huge siege guns designed for battering down fortress walls were now hub-to-hub aimed in the direction of the fighting awaiting the enemies’ ranks to emerge from the woods. Grant had even called down two gunboats, the Tyler and the Lexington, to defend the very landing itself should there be a need to evacuate the army under fire. At the landing were a growing number of beaten and demoralized Union soldiers that had quit the fight as they simply could take no more. With an anxious dread the final elements of the Union army waited and watched along this last line of defense, but a general attack never came. Though there was fighting here and there, there was no grand assault. No terrifying Rebel Yell. No massive bombardment.
​
Loss of a Hero
​
Unknown to most on the field that afternoon, Hardcastle’s friend and overall commander of the Army of the Mississippi, General Albert Sidney Johnston had been killed in action in the Peach Orchard on the Confederate right. Johnston, who had been so conspicuous in the morning, had been a source of great encouragement to the army. Actively involved from the beginning, at one point he had come within pistol shot of none other than General Sherman. Chided by a staff officer for over exposing himself, Johnston reluctantly, and only temporarily, pulled back from the extreme front. He was a soldier’s soldier, a general in the classic sense who sought the optimum vantage point on the field of battle from which to lead his men. Hearing of stiffening Union resistance on the Confederate right, Johnston bid farewell to Hindman and rode off with his staff to where Breckenridge’s Reserve Corps were engaged opposite the north end of Sarah Bell’s cotton field. Their opponent was Stephen Hurlbut’s Forth Division. In the area of the home belonging to William M. George, the Union army was able to place batteries with open fields of fire with the strong support of infantry. As a result Confederate casualties began to mount. Artillery tore through Southern ranks as they advanced. As they came on further, infantry opened up with concentrated volleys as gray clad soldiers dropped by groups to the ground.
​
As Johnston arrived on the scene, he made his way to the right of the Confederate force that had been assailing the Union position through a peach orchard at the junction of a farm lane and the Hamburg-Savanah Road. Informed of the situation, he ordered his aide Major Haydon to order General Bowen to bring up his men quickly. When Bowen arrived Johnston told him, “Only a few more charges and the day is ours.” Once Breckenridge’s Corps was sorted, Bowen in line, and General Jackson’s Brigade of Bragg’s Corps in support, the grand assault swept across the field. During this attack, Johnston moved as far as forty paces in front of Breckenridge’s line. As the assault surged forward, inspired by their commander, once again the waves of men screamed with wild excitement as they broke over the Union positions. For the last part of the charge Johnston wheeled his Thoroughbred away from the action and trotted to a slight rise of ground past two log homes just off the Hamburg Road. By his side was Tennessee’s Governor Isham Harris. Johnston pointed to the heal of his boot that had been shot off as well as the several holes in his uniform and said, “Governor, they came very close to putting me ‘hors de combat’ in that charge.” Harris inquired, “Are you wounded?” To which Johnston replied no and that the mark under his shoulder blade was “just a scratch”. Immediately following Johnston directed the governor to carry an order to Colonel Winfield Statham commanding a brigade in Breckenridge’s Corps. Harris dutifully rode off with order in hand. Still by Johnston’s side were two staff officers, Captain Lee Wickham and Theodore O’Hara. Watching the final stages of the triumphant assault upon the Union line, the trio heard a loud “thud” of a bullet striking Fire-eater, the general’s horse. Captain Wickham immediately noticed blood dripping from Johnston’s boot heal and implored the general to retire below the crest of the hill. Johnston replied: “No; Hardee’s fire is very heavy. We will go where the firing is heaviest.” As Johnston wheeled his horse, an excited O’Hara exclaimed: “General, your horse is wounded!” Johnston answered, “Yes, and his master too.” Harris came riding up just in time to see Johnston swaying in his saddle. Coming along side Harris caught Johnston by the arm. Captain Wickham anxiously inquired, “General, are you wounded?” To which Johnston replied in a concerned tone, “Yes, and I fear seriously.” The governor led Fire-eater down to a ravine where the general was eased off his horse and made comfortable as possible under a large oak tree. Johnston’s personal physician, Dr. Yandell, had been dispatched earlier by the general to assist in taking care of the wounded of both sides that the contest was producing. He had left Johnston with a field tourniquet in his coat pocket but no one knew it was there and once discovered, no one knew how to apply it. Staff officers returning from various errands to which the general had dispatched them began to return. At once they departed again in haste searching for a doctor. On this mission Captain Wickham came across Colonel George Baylor and acquainted him with the news. Each hoping some other officer had been successful in locating a physician, they decided to journey back to the general’s side. When they returned they arrived upon a somber scene. Several staff officers stood around, none offering to speak. The general lay motionless under the tree with a six to eight foot stream of blood trailing away from his body culminating in a dark pool. Attempts to revive him were unsuccessful. Colonel Preston cried out “My God, my God! Haydon is it so?” All stood there in disbelief wiping the tears from their eyes. Preston could not contain himself and openly sobbed. Catching his breath he said: “Pardon me gentlemen; you all know how I loved him.” Someone looked at their time piece, it was 2:30. General Albert Sidney Johnston was dead.
​
After Johnston’s death, command of the army now devolved to Beauregard who was nearly two miles northwest at the junction of the Hamburg-Purdy and Corinth-Pittsburg Roads. Beauregard had been actively engaged commanding the center and left of the Confederate army since before noon. However, the death of Johnston left the right of the army without direction. After so much sacrifice to break through the stubborn Union position on the right, once taken, the attack ground to a halt. Once the ranking corps commander closest to the area, Major General Braxton Bragg, was informed of Johnston’s death sometime around 3:00 P.M., it was too late in the day to reorganize, resupply, and renew any major attack on that part of the field. Still the fighting continued and did so with vigor at times at the direction of individual brigade commanders and even regimental commanders all desirous of sweeping victory.
We Are Gone Now
​
Back at the landing behind “Grant’s last line” all was chaos. Wounded soldiers aboard river transports looked out their windows and saw an unforgettable scene of an army in defeat. Soldiers were milling about unarmed, listless, and in shock. Many were attempting to swim across the Tennessee River with several drowning in the process. One broken Union cavalryman was seen riding his horse straight out into the river clinging to his tail in the hopes to make it to the other side. Fugitives were swimming out to the transports and desperately trying to lift themselves free from the current by climbing the mooring lines onto the vessels. Efforts by officers on shore to regain control and discipline were futile. By 4:00 P.M. all outward observations told a tale of unimaginable horror, the Union Army of the Tennessee had suffered a catastrophic defeat and seemed to be on the threshold of complete annihilation. At the peak of despair somewhere close to 15,000 Union soldiers clung to the river bank under the bluffs hoping to escape death or prison. The overall commander of the Army of the Tennessee, Major General Ulysses S. Grant didn’t arrive at the landing until 4:30 that afternoon. What his thoughts were can only be imagined. As he waded into the disorganized mob he pleaded with them to regain their soldierly bearing. When repeated attempts at rallying these men failed, he ordered a squad of cavalry into the fray. This only drove the hapless Northerners into the water’s edge with only a temporary effect. Soon even more arrived and it seemed Grant had little hope of regaining the situation. April 6, 1862 was a complete disaster for the Union Army.
Sometime around five o’clock in the late afternoon what must have seemed a Holy Ghost miracle appeared before the broken men along Pittsburg Landing. At first though, it very well could have induced a complete rout or even mutiny. As a Union soldier looked across the river to the other side, he noticed two men on horseback ride up and peer back at him. One of the mounted men held a white flag with a red square in the center of the fly. Apparently mistaking this banner as hostile, the fugitive cried out: “We are gone now! There’s the Texas cavalry on the other side of the river!” Fortunately for Grant the soldier’s hysteria was quickly contained and the riders on the opposite shore were identified as the vanguard of Major General William Nelson’s Forth Division, Army of the Ohio.
Dedication of the Confederate Memorial in May of 1917 by the United Daughters of the Confederacy. The monument was the Southern people's effort to enshrine the memory of their fathers and grandfathers for future generations. Though the war was lost, the memorial was placed so memory of their sainted dead never would be.
As darkness fell there was a sharp change in weather. The night was passed with violent storms, streak lightning, and torrential rain. Several soldiers crouched on the field trying in vain to shield themselves from the tempest, never forgot the surreal nightmare that was their existence that night. Confederate soldiers remembered how the terrifying lightning would flash lighting up their immediate surroundings to reveal the ghastly site of mangled torn bodies close by; the living being unaware till the flashing blue light would announce the presence of the dead. Often the deceased would have his eyes wide open, his gaze fixed upon the living, his mouth gaped open testifying to his astonishment and pain that was his last moments. These were scenes these men never forgot and hoped never to see again. Additionally, all throughout the night of April 6 and the early morning hours of April 7, Union gunboats on the Tennessee River fired massive mortar shells into the Confederate camps depriving them of much needed sleep. For the Southern men bivouacked among the dead enduring the naval shelling, all seemed a perfect infernal region. For Grant the story was much different. Although subjected to the same elements, his was a much cheerier countenance as he received reinforcements throughout the night as General Don Carlos Buell’s Army of the Ohio arrived by river transport with Buell himself arriving at 1:00 A. M. During the darkness, 13,000 fresh Union men filed onto the fields to await what events sunlight would bring.
​
Wallace Attacks
​
At 8:00 A.M., Monday morning Major General Lew Wallace’s Division began a counter attack against the forward Confederate positions. Wallace had gotten lost on the march from Crump yesterday and had missed most of the action. His troops were fresh and ready for a fight. As Wallace advanced, the sounds of musketry and artillery could once again be heard by Hardcastle’s men on guard duty three miles to the rear. I can imaging John Henry and Albert being near the end of their endurance as they formed up soaking wet in line of march and began another long slog toward the sound of battle. Hardcastle reported: “Monday morning, the 7th instant, I started back to the battlefield about 8 o’clock, by orders of Colonel McKoin. On the way we took different roads, and I did not see again until evening McKoin’s and Harris’s regiments, with whom I started. My men were much exhausted and worn-out. They marched very slowly. On the way a Louisiana company (commanded by a Lieutenant) and a few others joined me.”
​
While in route, the clash of intense musketry being heard must have unnerved many. Having survived the carnage of yesterday, now they were going back into fray. The firing heard was that of attacks and counter-attacks in an area known as Water Oaks Pond and was as desperate as any of the fighting of the previous day. Sherman stated that the fight at Water Oaks Pond was “about twenty-minutes of the heaviest musketry fire” he had ever witnessed. Emerging from the woods, the 3rd Mississippi Battalion arrived at the edge of Ben Howell Field. Forming in line, Hardcastle states: “I approached a deserted camp of the enemy. I flanked to the left, and moved forward to an old field in front of, and to the right of, a burning house. I met many scattering soldiers falling back, who said to me, ‘You are too late.’ The Louisianans and a few of my men fell back with them.” The tide was beginning to turn against the South. Still there was work to do and soon the 3rd Mississippi Battalion, now down to less than half strength, would be hotly engaged every bit as much as the day before.
​
As parts of Wallace’s division moved out of Crescent Field opposite Ben Howell Field, Hardcastle posted his men behind the logs and trees on the edge of the field. The force before them was significantly larger than they consisting of two Union regiments most likely the 23rd Indiana and 20th Ohio supported by Thurber’s Battery I, 1st Missouri Light Artillery. When the 3rd Mississippi Battalion was spotted they were immediately engaged. Hardcastle stated: “A terrible fire opened upon us of canister and musketry.” However Hardcastle’s men had the good fortune of being confronted by a force that was almost completely out of ammunition including the artillery. The 3rd Mississippi returned fire with great effect which drove back the enemy. Hardcastle’s men sprang to their feet and made for the battery driving off its crew at which point the guns were promptly captured. In this affair Captain R.H. McNair of Company E was shot down and later died. In addition five more privates and one sergeant was wounded. Seeing Union reinforcements emerging from the woods, Hardcastle thought better of his situation and decided to withdraw his command to a less exposed position.
Quitting the Field
​
In his after action report Hardcastle wrote: “When I had retired a few hundred yards I came upon Colonel Allen of the 4th Louisiana, who had formed some 500 or 600 stragglers into a body. I formed on his left, and we took post farther to the rear, behind the battery to support it. We remained here an hour, until the colonel got orders to retire. We took up the line of march in order and quit the field. In repulsing the enemy from their battery we gave an opportune check to his advance upon our retiring skirmishers. Throughout this action, on both days, the officers and soldiers of my battalion behaved bravely. No instance of distrust or dismay met my observation. Respectfully submitted, A.B. Hardcastle, Major, Commanding Third Mississippi Battalion”
​
The battle was over for John Henry and Albert but not the need to endure. They marched all the way back to Michie where they spent Monday night bivouacked on the road exposed to the elements. A cold drizzle turned into a three hour hail storm. If John Henry and Albert got any sleep at all it must have been due to pure exhaustion; mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual exhaustion. They were no doubt drained by their experience of the last two days. Still, the area around “the White House hospital” was no ideal place for rest. A reporter for a Texas newspaper, The Triweekly Telegraph of Houston, described the scene: “I must not close without speaking of the hospital scenes at Mickey’s House.... The house and surrounding tents were filled with our own, and the enemy’s wounded, who had been taken prisoners. Arms, legs, hands and feet, just amputated, lay scattered around-the groans of the wounded and dying mingled together. The vigilant, scientific, and unceasing attention of our Surgeon George W. Lawrence, and Dr. Chas. E. Michel, Inspector of Hospitals, Hardee’s Corps, their skill in operating, the humanity manifested, and their general administration, richly deserve to be made public.”
​
At 18 years of age, such a ghastly scene was an experience of John Henry and Albert Coker they were likely never to forget but would be repeated before them again and again. The next day the brothers followed the army in a general retreat to Corinth in a quagmire of mud. The Battle of Shiloh had ended.
​
Stunning Victory to Mournful Loss
​
From the Northern perspective, although Grant would remain in possession of the field at the close of the second day’s fighting, Shiloh was by no means a battle that could be heralded as a great victory by the Northern newspapers which initially is exactly what they did. However, the narrative of “Grant as the national hero” or the “glorious victory” began to fade quickly. Any celebratory mood in the North could not eclipse the staggering human toll inflicted on the Union Army. American’s of the 1860’s were an informed people. History, specifically military history, was not unknown among American families. What occurred at this unassuming little landing on the Tennessee River had produced more carnage in two days than any battle fought on the American continent up to that time. At over 23,000 casualties, descriptions of the contest read more like the great battles of European history than anything ever seen in America. Grant’s leadership, or lack thereof, was called into question. The state of his army at the close of the first day was a complete wreck. Grant had lost nearly twenty thousand effectives from the fight; those dead, wounded, captured, and including some 10,000 that were psychologically broken huddled down by the river refusing to reenter the fight.
​
The state of confusion, humiliation and indecision of Union forces is represented in an exchange between the newly arrived Buell and Colonel James Tuttle of W.H.L. Wallace’s Division. Wallace had been shot off his horse defending the Hornets’ Nest. The bullet entered in behind the left ear and exited his left eye. Wallace would succumb to his wound four days later in Savanah, Tennessee with his wife by his side. Tuttle had been present and intimately involved with Wallace as they tried in vain to save their command. Now, with Wallace believed dead, the division routed, his brigade shattered, and his nerves frayed, Tuttle was approached by an angry Buell still stunned at what he was witnessing in real time. Already having had one altercation with a disillusioned officer on the bluff as well as a tense meeting with Grant, Buell encountered Colonel Tuttle, and in an effort to get his mind around the situation, demanded to know what the immediate plan before them was. Tuttle snapped back, “By God, sir, I don’t know!”
​
From the Southern perspective Shiloh had been the great bold gamble to reverse the fortunes of war in the Western Theater for the young Confederacy. In this the campaign failed. However, all that was accomplished by the Army of the Mississippi in such a short period of time was remarkable. In fact, it was nothing short of amazing. Beauregard had cobbled together in a matter of weeks the largest Southern army yet. That army had moved some twenty miles in the completely inhospitable weather, to assemble at the very threshold of their enemy unmolested. Then they launched a devastating attack that swept the field before them till the attack ran into confusion and stalled on the right having lost its driving force, General Johnston. Finally, no one, certainly not the men who actually had the experience of knowing, would ever or could ever call into question the prowess of Southern Arms in the field or the spirit of the individual Confederate soldier. In these aspects of the great battle the South’s history is secure. Yet for all that was won from a morale perspective, so much was lost. New Orleans novelist George Washington Cable wrote, “The South never smiled again after Shiloh.” The loss of General Albert Sidney Johnston threw the Southern people into morning. President Jefferson Davis openly wept when hearing the news. The news of Johnston’s death was only tempered by the numerous stories of the “total and complete victory” won by him before he died. Then, like in the North, the fanfare died down as more accurate accounts of the battle surfaced. In those woods, around the farms, scattered across the fields, the South sent 1,728 of her sons, husbands, and brothers to die. Over 8,000, many of whom would die later, were wounded, and near 1,000 more were missing. The official total for the Army of the Mississippi was 10,699 casualties killed, wounded, and missing. This was an enormous amount for a people mostly from small farms and villages.
​
My second great grandfather John Henry Coker and his companion, my third great uncle Albert Coker survived the battle. To my knowledge neither was wounded as there is nothing in company returns indicating so. Back to Corinth, the boys would play their part in the evacuation of that place as Beauregard decided to abandon the city he once said they must never lose or they, Beauregard said, would “lose the Mississippi Valley and probably our cause”. Beauregard really had no choice as the sheer amount of wounded, sick, and dying men had turned the little railroad town into a disease ridden camp. For the health of the army and pity for the remaining citizens, the Army of the Mississippi evacuated the town on May 30, 1862 leaving it to the now 120,000 man Union force coming against it.
​
John Henry and Albert continued in the life of a Confederate soldier in the 3rd Mississippi Battalion until parted on July 14, 1862 when Albert Coker, John Henry’s uncle of the same age, his childhood playmate, friend in peace and brother in war, died. This may have been from a wound at Shiloh or disease contracted at Corinth. There is an entry in the company return for June that shows him as sick. It’s also possible that he could have been in an accident as there are several men from the army that were injured in railroad accidents while trying to move the army about. The record is silent as to cause of death and unfortunately family history fills no void there. There’s no doubt Albert’s death must have hit John Henry hard. Still, he stayed on and continued to make what we now call history, marching on Bragg’s grand invasion of Kentucky in October fighting at the Battle of Perryville under the renamed 33rd Mississippi Infantry, so named as recruiting had brought the unit up to the full strength of a regiment. He appears to have missed the Battle of Murfreesboro in December which is good for we who are his descendants as, now as the re-designated 45th Mississippi Infantry, they suffered horrible casualties.
​
John Henry stayed in the army till September of 1863. Just days before the enormous struggle known as the Battle of Chickamauga, John Henry gave himself up to the Union on September 9th. The only details for his motivation to do so was, as my grandmother told me, “He was tired having no shoes” his only pair lost during the infamous mud march around Tullahoma in the summer of 1863. Accounts differ as to his “going over” to the other side. Some accounts list him as a deserter yet he went to a Northern Prison camp being “sent North beyond the Ohio” which would be supportive of capture. Also, the day before John Henry was captured, General Bragg set several men posing as deserters to mislead Union General Rosecrans astray with misinformation as to Bragg's intentions. Either way, after the war he made his way back home where he married and had children of whom one was my great grandfather Joel Hardy Coker. Joel Hardy had a son, Wesley Allen Coker, my granddaddy who was father to my mother, Julia, and then there was me.
I am forever thankful to my Second Great Grandfather John Henry Coker for his courage, devotion, and sacrifice to a cause larger than himself. What he and that generation did and experienced should never be forgotten. They sounded a call of duty, honor, and courage that, for me, has no equal in the annals of world history. Their long war is ended. May they never be forgotten and their memory, and those efforts and edifices placed by a grateful people to remember long endure.
