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'One, Two, Three, What are We Fighting For?'


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Preface / Introduction

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Table of Contents

1.'Look away Dixie Land!' The day that determined the outcome of the U.S. Civil War. The Battleof Hampton Roads, March 9, 1862. And you are there....2.Thoughts on the "war to end all wars", mustard gas, Uncle Will, and remembrance.3.'One, two, three, what are we fighting for?' Thoughts on the turbulent life and times of GeorgeMcGovern, dead at 90, October 21, 2012.

Chromolithograph depicting the Battle

Of Hampton Road


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http://www.LizsWorldprofit.com Copyright Elizabeth English - 2012 4 of 13

'Look away Dixie Land!' The day that determined theoutcome of the U.S. Civil War. The Battle of Hampton Roads,March 9, 1862. And you are there....

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. The American Civil War began April 12, 1861 with the firing of the rebelforces on Fort Sumter in the harbor of Charleston, South Carolina. It officially ended on April 9,1865 when General Robert E. Lee surrendered his army at Appomattox Court House. In between,212,938 people from both sides were killed in action, with total casualties exceeding 625,000 inwhat was the most bloody war ever fought on this planet... and the most embittered, as is always thecase when brothers fight each other to the death, enraged, grieving, broken hearted but determinedto have victory, whatever the cost...

This war was filled with incident, great deeds of valor, deeds, too, of squalor, treachery, unmitigatedcruelty... and chivalry... but of all the deeds in this great struggle, the deeds of just a handful of mendetermined the outcome. These were the men who fought each other at the Battle of HamptonRoads, Virginia March 8-9, 1862. And I am taking you there today... for you will want to know whowon, who lost, and why it happened the way it did.

For the incidental music to this article, I have selected Daniel Decatur Emmett's famous tune,"Dixie," also known as "I Wish I Was in Dixie," a song originating in the black face minstrelsy ofthe 1850s. It is a tune that makes even the least likely ready to jump up and whirl. I have selected ittoday because, as Abraham Lincoln himself said on April 10, 1865, it's "one of the best tunes I everheard" ... but also because of its famous line, "Look away, Dixie Land." After the Battle of HamptonRoads, Virginia and all the other Confederate states had nothing to look forward to... and everythingto look away from.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FDyF9n5pOqw

But it didn't look that way on March 8, 1862... quite the contrary.

News of the most alarming portent arrives in Washington, D.C., Sunday, March 9, 1862.

Gideon Wells, a New England journalist, found himself urgently summoned to the White House.Come! Come at once! And this Connecticut Yankee, in his unlikely role as Secretary of the Navy,scurried to a meeting where he found Mr. Edwin Stanton, Secretary of War, in the greatest possibledismay... and so alarmed himself that he was alarming, too, the President of the Dis-united States ofAmerica.

It was a scene to brighten every heart in Dixie... and cause shrewd financiers to sell U.S. Treasurybonds short before Wall Street opened Monday, to chaos and defeatism.

Mr. Stanton could not keep still, could not hide his profound anxiety and fear. He sat down, only tojump up again and rush to the windows... What was he looking for? A savior for the Union cause...What did he expect to see? The CSS Virginia in all her glory steaming up the Potomac, sinking theFederal cause with effortless grace. It was a scene of destiny, and every man on both sides of thestruggle knew that history of the gravest magnitude was happening now! To them! At HamptonRoads! And so depending on their point of view and allegiance they either gave way to unbridled

joy... or profound despair and lamentation. No one was neutral on this urgent matter.

USS Merrimac into CSS Virginia.


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The largest naval installation of the Great Republic was at Norfolk in Virginia... and so after the OldDominion seceded (April 24, 1861) it became a matter of the greatest urgency to both sides to


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arrange matters there to their greatest advantage. This to the Federal forces meant moving as muchas could be moved, destroying the rest. And, to the rebels, to do just the reverse.

Thus was the USS Merrimac, unable to be removed in time and against the rebel sentiments of hercrew, burnt and sunk... but not effectively. Her new owners quickly discovered both hull andengines were serviceable... and so began her transformation into the CSS Virginia, the vessel whichmade Secretary Stanton quail with acute fear and humiliating anxiety.

Why?

Because CSS Virginia, for all that she had just weeks ago been scuttled, was transformed into themightiest ship of all the navies of all the seas... a ship sheathed in iron, designed to deal death to thepicturesque, now ineffectual sailing ships of every navy, but without suffering a single nick at all.Thus did the dead Merrimac come to be the super weapon the Confederacy needed to pulverize theUnion and secure their freedom from the meddling, inept Yankees they despised.

Confederate triumph March 8, 1862.

The world changed this day... as the Virginia, with the merest motion, rammed the hapless USSCumberland, 121 seamen going down with her... then the USS Congress was put out of action,surrendering... and everyone, from the merest cabin boy, saw the future... and knew that everygallant wooden vessel, yesterday puissant, was now dross. And so, as cat to mouse, Virginia movedto her next sure triumph, USS Minnesota... while every telegrapher sent on the news, the news thatso discomfited Secretary Stanton... and every other brave Union heart. Armageddon was here... andit flew a Confederate flag.

Until...

In August, 1861 Gideon Wells authorized work on a top-secret Union ironclad... and in due coursethe USS Monitor was born, the most radical naval design ever; the invention of Swedish engineerand inventor John Ericsson. And it was this curious, much mocked vessel that steamed intoHampton Roads March 9, just in time, to reverse what but yesterday had seemed certain, Southerncommand of the seas and therefore victory.And as Monitor and Virginia battled each other to a draw, each unable to finish its deft opponent,the entire strategic scene changed. All wooden ships, every single one, was now obsolete; thus a newarms race started for command of the seas. USS Monitor had, simply by maneuvering to a draw,stopped the South's "certain" advance and commenced a war of bloody attrition, a war the Northcould win, and the South had most reason to fear. For without access to the world, the South couldonly rely on itself... and that would never be enough to ensure independence as every Southernfamily would, in tragic due course, come to understand only too well. As for both the historic shipsof this engagement, neither sailed for long. Virginia was burnt again and sunk when Union forcestook back the Norfolk port facilities in May. As for the plucky Monitor, she sank December 31,1862

off North Carolina. The remains of one of her stricken crew, 24-year-old James Fenwick, were justrecently brought to the surface for honorable burial. He had been married just a few weeks beforeMonitor embarked on her final voyage; her history short but epochal.

"Old times they are not forgotten; Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land."


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some calculated gesture of a Machiavellian prince who might later rescind what he rued to give.William Edward Marshall's rights were sacrosanct for him.... and every other Citizen. This wasAmerica in 1890 the year Will Marshall was born, the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Football hero, farmer, respected man of peace.

Will Marshall was called without irony the handsomest man in Henderson County. "That and twobits will buy you pie and coffee," even his deflating father said. Will didn't mind the raillery; afterall, tall, well made, fleet of foot and master strategist he was that most American of local heroes...from whose agile moves came a lifetime's respect from those who would tear the goal posts downafter they had seen Will Marshall run past them -- again. Such feats are cherished everywhere inAmerica, but nowhere more than in the tiny hamlet of Stronghurst, Illinois; population still under1000 souls in 1914... everyone of them knew what a good man Will Marshall was... howhard-working, how public spirited, how well he must stand with his God. And so things might havecontinued but for the murderous meeting between an archduke on a sunny July day and a zealotdetermined to exterminate him.

Will Marshall goes to war, to France, to his destiny.

Will Marshall was not a warrior, not a man of marshal attitudes, uniforms, poses and gestures.Farmers, tillers of the land, bringing forth its bounty by their own incessant labor, seldom are. Theyknow how difficult it is to create life, to spend any of their limited time on this planet destroying it.Will Marshall abhorred war, yet went to war, the greatest and most destructive war ever, because theGreat Republic and its affairs needed him... and that was that.

"The Yanks are coming."

Thus, Will Marshall became part of the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF) and in due coursefound himself one of over one million citizen-soldiers stationed in France, over half of whom wereat the front lines, including him. There as the increasingly desperate German imperial forces grewmore desperate yet, considering, doing every single thing they could do to snatch victory fromincreasingly certain defeat, Will Marshall met his fate, in a cloud of poison gas.

Mustard gas.

Contrary to popular belief, gas as a weapon was first introduced by the French army. However it wasthe Germans with their customary organizational genius and chemical skills who perfected theprocess. For the defence and glory of the Fatherland anything, even the most horrid thing, wascontemplated, considered and ultimately used. Some apologist somewhere would no doubt advancea comfortable rationale...

And so one ordinary day an ordinary German solider lobbed the mustard gas that sent WilliamEdward Marshall, citizen, descendant of the great Chief Justice who helped shape the new nation,one of nature's gentlemen, to his knees, brought low by the toxic beauty of gas; stealthy, silent,serene.

But there, you see, is the rub. For gas is one of the cruelest weapons ever created. During the actualmustard gas attack its manifestations may not be seen, will not be seen for hours, even days. Then...the gas you inhaled, perhaps without knowing it, became the pernicious agent of your end... the gasrules you and decides whether you live or die, what manifestations and disabilities may be yoursand torment you for years, for life.

Thus, starting from the day he was gassed until the day he died, Uncle Will lived a life where hissight degenerated . Remedies were tried. Doctors consulted. Prayers by one and all given for hisrecovery, for he was a popular man. All to no avail. The effects of that gas cost him at once one eye.


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The second deteriorated year by year until in 1934 he could see nothing at all. Light, for him, hadceased to exist.

Uncle Will and Me.

When I was growing up in the 'fifties, my family visited Stronghurst every so often. We never failedto visit Uncle Will and his charming wife Alma. My father made sure we behaved properly. He wasespecially keen on the handshake, "Firm, NOT limp!" And how to walk across the parlor properly,so Uncle Will knew how many steps you took. In this way he calculated how tall you were and howmuch you'd grown since the last visit.

The room was quiet, sound muted, light filtered. Uncle Will sat in a great, sturdy chair, its sizenecessary to contain the football player of old. I looked closely at his face; this was the face of aman of resignation and calm acceptance. He remained handsome, even noble right until the end.

He never complained. Never said a word about that day so long ago. Never was anything but gentle,polite, good humored and glad to see you. He had fought his war, done his bit, paid the terrible priceand could look the world in the eye, his pride deep, profound, abiding. The Great Republic hasbesought his help. He had given in full measure, and for him it was "Over, over there", not a bitterreality revisited daily.

Now not only Uncle Will but every veteran of the Great War is gone. Now they no longer die bythousands each day... but, far worse, are forgotten in their thousands each day; men and womenwhose lives were utterly and completely committed to us, now not even a moment's thought by us.Yet we are all the children of their unequalled gifts and should always be glad and glad to say so.They ask so little now, but we begrudge them even that, satisfied to take, satisfied to give themnothing, not even heartfelt recognition of our eternal debt.

May God forgive us.

Author's closing note. Like so many of his buddies, Uncle Will loved "Over There", a jaunty tunewritten by George M. Cohan in 1917.. Find it in any search engine. Turn up the sound andremember.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wbggEGUaE28

World War 1 Veterans


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'One, two, three, what are we fighting for?' Thoughts on theturbulent life and times of George McGovern, dead at 90,October 21, 2012.

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant.

Author's program note. On Election Day November, 1968 my father and I walked to the pollingplace in West Los Angeles where I proudly voted for the first time (as he told the poll worker), forelectors pledged to Richard M. Nixon for president of the United States.

Four years later, now a graduate student at Harvard and a resident of Massachusetts, I walked aloneto the Cambridge polling place and with a pencil cast my vote for electors pledged to GeorgeMcGovern.

All that was missing was the tune the victorious new Americans played at Yorktown in 1781 whenthe British forces under Lord Cornwallis surrendered; that tune was "The World Turned UpsideDown"... and so it was. What had caused this seismic change in me and in the Great Republic?Vietnam. A word, a place, an event, a symbol, a tragedy, a charnel house, a quagmire, a conundrum.A squalid moment in the often squalid affairs of mankind... a place where many erred and far too

many died .. but where one decent, thoughtful man gained honor and the hard-won title of "patriot",a designation he would gratefully have laid down if that would have spared a single young life.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=594JpY2ahFg

That man was George McGovern. This is his story. And this is why it matters and why, upon theoccasion of his death, it must be recalled, if only to remind what one individual of vision,commitment, and determination can do to right the greatest wrongs and make the crucial difference.

Born George Stanley McGovern, July 19, 1922, Avon, South Dakota.

To understand a man you need to know where he comes from, who his people were and what they

believed in and stood for. George McGovern was born in the 600-person farming community ofAvon, a hamlet which shared a name but nothing more with Shakespeare's verdant village. Thosewho love South Dakota, and he remained one of them for life, never underestimated or glamorizedits stark, unyielding, punishing realities. Life was hard in the Dakotas, but it offered the one thingthat made life worth living: freedom. Freedom to work hard, to risk all, to find God and to lookevery man squarely in the face, the equal of all, subservient to none. In short, it was, despite itsunending challenges, the best possible place on Earth, for here was everything that mattered.

His parents were stolid Republicans, of Northern Irish, Scottish, and English descent. And they wereMethodists, his father the pastor of the local Wesleyan Methodist Church. As such they were theheirs of John Wesley's "Great Awakening", commencing in the 1730s; people who knew what Godintended and accepted the necessity, yes the privilege, of being responsible for improving, not justaccepting, present reality. This was a key factor in McGovern's life and work, for he was norespecter of present realities per se but only the necessity to improve them. And so he set to work onhis first reform project, targeting himself. He realized he could not ask others to improve if he wouldnot improve himself.

Thus this painfully shy boy, average in everything, forced himself to talk, to learn, to advance, to bebetter. Tongue-tied, he turned himself by assiduous, painstaking effort into an admired debatechampion.

And when in seventh grade, a gym teacher called him a "physical coward", in the thoughtless way ofthat ilk, McGovern vowed to show him. And in due course in the "good war", World War II, he did;


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flying the B-24 Liberator, one of the most difficult airplanes to fly because in the early part of the


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war, they didn't have hydraulic controls. McGovern likened it to "driving a Mack truck without anypower steering or power breaks."

He flew 35 combat missions as a B-24 pilot, receiving the Distinguished Flying Cross and an AirMedal with three oak leaf clusters. He was no coward, physical or otherwise. Nor did he brag abouthis achievements; few, even friends, knew anything about his valor and pluck. He was aprofessional. He had been called to do a job. He had done it well. He was ready for his nextmission... and the one after that.

A learned man, a growing sympathy for the underdog.

Like all the great reformers, McGovern recognized the importance of education, not just for childrenand young people, but for everyone. And so he studied for the ministry at Northwestern University;then took a Master's degree (1949) in history; then in 1953 his doctorate. His 450-page dissertationwas titled "The Colorado Coal Strike, 1913- 1914". It was a sympathetic account of the miners'revolt against Rockefeller interests in the Colorado Coalfield War. His thesis adviser, eminenthistorian Arthur Link, later said he had not seen a better student than McGovern in 26 years ofteaching. He was far indeed from the awkward, shy, tongue-tied boy of yore.

From teaching history to making it.

Having graduated, he did what most newly minted PhDs did: he taught college history and politicsfor several years. But research, contemplation, writing and teaching weren't enough. He itched to domore than write and lecture about history's reformers; bit by bit, as he knew himself better, headmitted he wanted to become one. And the fertile field of South Dakota politics lay open beforehim. What he did next was bold, audacious, a course of genius or just madness. He decided to bringthe Democratic Party to one of the most Republican states of the Great Republic; a state where everyoffice-holder was Republican and 108 legislative seats out of 110. With his family background andexemplary war record, he might easily have joined the majority party.

However, he'd been touched by FDR, Henry Wallace, Harry Truman, and Adlai Stevenson, the manhe named his only son after, in 1952. They enlightened him; they clarified; they enthused; theymotivated. In the 1954 elections he showed what he could do; 25 seats went Democratic andMcGovern was launched. The party he forged then sent him to the U.S. Congress in 1956; to theU.S. Senate in 1962 (after losing the 1960 race to Senator Karl Mundt whom he loathed as aRed-baiting McCarthyite).

In office, he focused on improvements for rural America, farm support, and the popular Food forPeace program. Under usual circumstances a senator in his position could have reasonably aspiredto the chairmanship of the Senate Agriculture Committee, even the Cabinet as Secretary ofAgriculture. These were worthy, if not stellar, objectives. However, in September, 1963 he rose onthe Senate floor; his subject was a nation not one in a thousand citizens of South Dakota could evenfind on a map; a small, far-away nation; a nation now engulfed in war and disintegration. Senator

McGovern rose and admonished America on its course of involvement and escalation. America soonenough would have reason to rue the lack of care and attention it gave his pressing message.Vietnam. The apotheosis of George McGovern.

Now the dance macabre began. North Vietnam and its allies advanced; South Vietnam fell back; theUnited States escalated its support; McGovern escalated his disapprovals, condemnations, anddenunciations. And all the while vulnerable flesh paid its bleeding price in death, disfigurements,dismemberments, each incident blighting a young life, sundering a great nation and causingworldwide disbelief and censure. McGovern, however reluctantly, took up the cause as his crusade.The Great Republic had fashioned this man for its great need. And the man was ready.


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This was what the man came to believe and what he told his Senate colleagues, the Great Republicand the world in September, 1970:

"Every Senator in this chamber is partly responsible for sending 50,000 young Americans to anearly grave. This chamber reeks of blood. Every Senator here is partly responsible for that humanwreckage at Walter Reed and Bethesda Naval and all across our land -- young men without legs, orarms, or genitals, or faces or hopes... If we do not end this damnable war those young men will someday curse us for our pitiful willingness to let the Executive carry the burden that the Constitutionplaces on us."But the Senate defeated his position 55-39. At this the greatest moment of his life, he knew he wouldhave to run for President because only the President could end the war, end the unending blood andfutility, and redeem the nation.

He runs, he loses, 1972. Plane talk with RMN.

One day in 1991, McGovern found himself on a plane sitting next to the man who crushed him in1972 in a electoral rout of near historic proportions. "We had a nice talk," said Nixon. "He wasalways a very decent guy who had the guts to stand up for what he believed in." In other words, theman on the moral high ground ran the worst possible campaign with Nemesis its manager.

Democratic House Speaker Thomas P. O'Neill, Jr. quipped that McGovern had been nominated bythe cast of "Hair". He was tagged with the label "amnesty, abortion and acid." He goofed everyaspect of the campaign, not least the fiasco of his vice presidential choice Missouri Senator ThomasEagleton. Eagleton was hardly vetted at all; was found to have a history of mental instability andshock treatment.

McGovern said he'd stand by his man "1,000 percent", then promptly dropped him. The next 5prominent Democrats he asked to run with him turned him down flat -- and publicly. He never laid aglove on Nixon. Famously McGovern carried only Massachusetts and the District of Columbia.Decency alone wasn't nearly enough. Being right wasn't enough. You needed a unique set ofattributes, skills and a willingness to do everything, go anywhere, say anything to get elected.McGovern didn't have them... as I came to see for myself when I met him at Harvard in 1977.

Food for peace, food for thought.

In those days, McGovern was focusing on what he should be more widely known for: feeding theworld. He came to Cambridge to collaborate with Dr. Jean Mayer, internationally known for hiswork eradicating hunger, promoting proper nutrition, fighting obesity, each and every one alifetime's work. Because I was one of Dr. Mayer's assistants, I had the run of the house and so metGeorge McGovern (re-elected Senator in 1974) at Mayer's Dudley House residence. And in my roleas fly on the wall, I noted everything. I already knew just how much historians value the smallestdetail, the detail that, in a few words, provides the critical aperture to understanding.

There was none of that divinity that doth hedge a king about McGovern. His charisma was zero. Iown to being disappointed. This was my man; I wanted to be impressed, awed, bowled over by witand wisdom. But that wasn't how he was, especially on that day.

It was easy to talk to him, and I made good use of my opportunity. I told him of my family in andabout Blunt, South Dakota, the Lauings. He said, as one does, that the name was familiar. I didn't tellhim they were rock-ribbed Republicans. He probably deduced as much for himself.

Then the phone rang as it would ring for him many times that day. It was his son, his only son Steve,alcoholic, problem, lifelong worry. I could tell from Mcgovern's side of the conversation that therewas a crisis brewing; the calls were frequent, short; arrangements were being made. McGovern


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looked worn, tired, fretful. There was nothing I could do; just stay at hand in case he neededsomething. It was the kind of support South Dakota folks provided, useful, silent, not worthmentioning, coffee's on the stove; the essence of Prairie friendship and true grit.

McGovern knew, none better, the tragedy of adult children in crisis, children he loved but couldn'thelp, couldn't reach; first Steve who finally found peace July 27, 2012; then his daughter TerryDecember 13, 1994. He captured her harrowing struggle in his 1996 book "Terry: My Daughter'sLife-and-Death Struggle with Alcoholism." He would later say that Terry's death was by far the mostpainful event of his life. It was no wonder he seemed, pre-occupied, distant, distracted the day I methim. It was the kind of day one faces often with alcoholics and drug abusers; a day where there ispain and where any hope at all is the greatest self-deception. He no longer hoped... and for such aman that was torment.

Envoi.

In 1976, George McGovern, uncomfortable with Jimmy Carter, moved right as ex-Democraticpresidential candidates not infrequently do (John W. Davis, Al Smith) and voted Republican, thistime for Gerald Ford, the decent man who performed the healing role McGovern might have likedfor himself. He could appreciate the many virtues of such a man, for he was such a man. No wonderhis last creative work was his 2008 book on Abraham Lincoln and his recorded narration for AaronCopeland's "Lincoln Portrait", done with the South Dakota Symphony Orchestra. Find it now in anysearch engine. McGovern found solace in the work, peace, tranquility, and a renewed belief in greatAmerica and its Great Republic, of the people, by the people, for the people.

... and so will you.

George McGovern


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Resource

About the Author Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a widerange of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home businesstraining, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting,hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 onlineHome Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.

Republished with author's permission by Elizabeth Englishhttp://LizsWorldprofit.com.
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