On February 2, 1865, Major-General John Foster, commanding the Department of the South, sent this letter to Major-General Henry W. Halleck, Army Chief of Staff in Washington:
Headquarters Department of the South,
Hilton Head, S.C., February 2, 1865.
Maj. Gen. H. W. Halleck, U.S. Army,
Chief of Staff, U. S. Armies:
General: The experience of the past few weeks has shown that volunteering among the colored men in this department is very slow and may not for a long time furnish the number so much needed for garrison and other duties. These men, just freed from long servitude, are, of necessity, ignorant and improvident. Their idea of liberty is exemption alike from work and care. The streets of Savannah are full of them, lying in the sun and waiting for bread without labor. Needing their services as soldiers, I respectfully ask that the Department will fix a quota for the States of South Carolina and Georgia, and allow me to fill it by conscripting the able-bodied young colored men, under such restrictions and exemptions as may be deemed most wise by the Department. Such as are imposed by the existing U.S. conscription law might be designated with an order that one-half or one-third of the number liable should be drafted. I have consulted with colored pastors on this subject and they agree with me in advising the proposed course. The future of the race is a matter of serious moment. Education is necessary to make freedom truly beneficial. The training of the army will do more to educate these men than any other scheme which can be devised; it will make them self-reliant and will develop their manhood. The camp is to-day the school-house of this race; it may be that in the future the soldierly training of these people will be their protection against local injustice, while the habits of care and economy so learned will make them self-supporting.
Alike, therefore, upon military and humane grounds, I ask the careful attention of the Department to the suggestions of this letter, and am, general,
Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
J. G. Foster,
Major-General, Commanding.
Let me offer this letter “as is” without a lot of context for now. Just for the reader’s consideration. I would point out that Foster’s suggestion of conscription follows in line with a similar practice followed by Major-General David Hunter in the spring of 1863. That is to say, the conscription was as much a means to organize an unaffiliated population that was living within Federal lines.
What do you make of it?
(Citation from OR, Series I, Volume 47, Part II, Serial 99, page 210.)
Often when historians offer a “wrap-up” of Sherman’s March to the Sea, there is focus, for good reasons, on this letter to President Abraham Lincoln:
It is the numbers – 150 guns and 25,000 bales of cotton – which often get some play as representative of the damage to the Confederate war effort. Facts are, however, both numbers are incorrect. The number of guns captured at Savannah alone was upwards of 160 (a total of over 200 captured in the campaign). The amount of cotton captured reached 38,000 bales. Not mentioned in the message, but often brought up in relation to the campaign, are the over 200 miles of railroad destroyed and an estimated $100 million in damage (in 1864 dollars).
These numbers are stark figures easily illustrating how Sherman’s campaign did much to topple the Confederacy (not the whole way, of course, as that would come in 1865, but the “teetering” was made acute). And while I do not downplay the damage done, truth is that most of it was recoverable. Within weeks, the railroads were running, somewhat. Telegraph lines between Mobile and Richmond were working again. The cotton lost was value on the docks, and not cash in hand. So another year’s crop might have resolved the shortfall. Perhaps the only items not “recuperated” were the cannons, as the Confederacy’s ability to manufacture such items was limited. Indeed, Georgia rebuilt… and faster than we often give credit.
Looking specifically at Georgia, consider the general route of the march in relation to the density of slave populations:
Notice how the line of march (and I’ve included Liberty and McIntosh Counties here as those were affected for weeks after the fall of Savannah) crosses some of the counties with the densest slave populations. In 1860, Georgia had over 460,000 slaves, constituting 44% of the state’s population. Sherman estimated some 20,000 escaped slaves joined his column by the time it reached Savannah. That figure does not count those who, heeding Sherman’s advice, stayed at home.
There were, as mentioned, some problems with the followers. And certainly such brought to the fore attitudes of some officers, as we consider events at Ebenezer Creek and other crossing points. But on whole, the burden created by those following the columns was accepted by those in command – often utilized to the favor of military operations. The pioneer corps formed from the freed blacks should be credited as an important force enabling the Federals to cross the low-country swamps with relative ease. And the escaped slaves turned expert guides where the maps were lacking.
And let us also not steer away from Sherman’s personal opinion about the free slaves and in general their race. But no matter how pointed that was, Sherman was an instrument of policy and complied with orders. The excess animals from the march were turned over to Brigadier-General Rufus Saxton for use in the contraband camps setup on the barrier islands. The “mule” in the “Forty acres and a mule” often came from those herds. We can debate the failures of that program at another time. But for the moment consider that any limited success of the project was also a function of Sherman’s march.
Sherman’s march, regardless of what its leader may or may not have desired, brought emancipation to a large swath of Georgia. That, unlike the material damage brought by the Federals, could not be rolled back. It is, I contend, the real lasting legacy of the march.
By mid-1864, a large population of former slaves, or contrabands to use the term applied at the time, existed at several places in the southern states behind Federal lines. In particular the Department of the South had significant contraband “cities” around Port Royal Sound. On one hand, these represented propaganda points for the north – freed slaves to evidence the results of the Emancipation Proclamation. Major-General David Hunter had drawn upon these contraband camps for labor (employed labor, to be exact) and to fill the ranks of USCT regiments. At the same time, every contraband in these camps represented on less laborer available to the Confederates in the department – and as witnessed by so many pleas, the Confederate commanders were short on labor of every category.
On the other hand, the contraband, or freedmen, camps were also a mixed blessing to the Federals. These communities existed on marginal lands, in the middle of an active combat zone, and barely suitable for subsistence farming. The populations depended heavily upon the military for support and protection. The threat of re-capture and return to bondage lingered above these communities. Yet, while no exact figures might support this supposition, all indications were the communities “pulled their weight” and then some, providing soldiers for the USCT regiments, a labor pool, and various supports for the Federals in theater. Without the contraband community, the efforts of Hunter, Gillmore, and Foster would have been much more difficult.
In regard to the freedmen enlisted in the service, the Federals faced another, perhaps more administrative issue on the surface: What to do with the men when their terms had expired? For white regiments, this was simply a procedural matter. The men transited to a muster-out point and were released to go home. But for those recruited from contraband camps, that “home” was something that existed as a notional place. There had been no “home” before the war in the proper sense of the word. Now “home,” if at all, was a temporary shelter near some Federal garrison.
For the USCT, this was less so an issue, given the standard enlistment terms at that time. But for the Navy, who’d brought contrabands on board for service afloat practically since the start of the war, this did present a growing concern. On July 13, 1864, Rear-Admiral John Dahlgren too the time to press this concern to Major-General John Foster:
Sir: It often occurs that contrabands and others, enlisted in the naval service, desire to be discharged here when their terms have expired–that is, they desire to remain ashore, which is your jurisdiction, and this can only be done by your permission. While declining, therefore, to interfere with your authority, permit me to observe that it seems very objectionable to permit a population to grow up here of persons from whom there is no guarantee that they may not in some way become useful to the enemy, it being their interest to stand well with both sides. And I hope, therefore, that the practice will only be allowed on condition of such residents rendering military service. No man should be neutral in this great emergency.
Dahlgren’s suggestion, which would grant some claim for those having served in uniform, is a far cry from “forty acres and a mule.” But in part a foothold for that notion. And that notion is matched to service, in this case, suggesting a benefit beyond a pension. This is framed, in the context of a civil war and the need to reconstruct (lower-case “r” there, please note) a loyal state in the aftermath.
Keep in mind, these are the words of a military commander – and not a politician.
(Citation from OR, Series I, Volume 35, Part II, Serial 66, pages 172-3.)
Francis H. Pierpont is most remembered as the “Father of West Virginia.” Lesser known is his role as the Governor of “restored” Virginia. After West Virginia was admitted as a state in June 1863, Arthur I. Boreman became the state’s first governor. But Pierpont remained governor of the areas of Virginia, outside of West Virginia, under Federal control. That area included parts of Northern Virginia (where the provisional capital was in Alexandria), Hampton Roads, Norfolk, and the Eastern Shore counties on the DelMarVa peninsula. Around this time 150 years ago, Pierpont raised an issue with the way Major-General Benjamin Butler had garrisoned those Eastern Shore counties (the Virginia counties were placed in his jurisdiction, and administered separately from the Maryland Eastern Shore for this time). Pierpont raised those issues in a letter to Secretary of War Edwin Stanton on January 27, 1864:
Hon. E. M. Stanton, Secretary of War, Washington, D.C.:
SIR: It is with deep regret that I feel compelled in the discharge of my official duty, however humble, to call your attention to the occupation of Accomack and Northampton Counties with colored troops to act as a provost guard. I am informed that 600 colored troops are sent to those counties, I suppose to take the place of the white troops there. Two companies of white troops is a large estimate for those counties, and from the number of those sent, I suppose, as a matter of course, the white ones will be removed.
Discipline is the first requisite for troops of any color, but from my observation veteran troops soon lose their discipline when placed on a roving service such as required in those counties, and none but soldiers of the best habits should be placed on that duty. These colored troops are new recruits just from bondage. Their own welfare requires discipline, hence their place is in the field or fortification where they can be under the eye of their officers.
This disposition of troops will have a bad effect on the white soldier in the field. Evil-disposed persons will circulate the news through the army that colored troops are sent back for guard duty, where there is no danger, while the white man is sent into the front of the battle. Pardon these suggestions.
But the great objection is the positive insolence of these colored soldiers, undisciplined as they are, to the white citizen. It is at the risk of the life of the citizen that we make any complaint of their bad conduct. I know you would not leave your wife and daughters in a community of armed negroes, undisciplined and just liberated from bondage, with no other armed protection. My information is that it is a terrible stroke to the Union cause in that section. Union men are justly frightened for the safety of their families. The citizens there are disarmed. I am happy to say the Union cause was growing daily in those counties.
The Legislature of the State has ordered a State convention to abolish slavery in the State. The delegates are all elected, and I have not heard of a single man being elected who is not in favor of abolishing slavery. The people in Accomack and Northampton will lose from 6,000 to 8,000 slaves, but still they bear it–must bear it. A number of slave-holders are with us, and the Union cause growing. Is it right now to torture both parties with the terrible apprehensions that must haunt them by the presence of these troops, when all reflecting men must doubt the propriety of it, looking alone to the good of the soldier, the service, and the policy in reference to the white soldiers? The same state of affairs exists at Portsmouth.
It is painful to me to raise these questions, but I am sure the honor of your administration requires the correction of abuses where they exist. I am satisfied these things are not done by your orders.
I am, yours, &c.
F. H. Peirpoint [sic].
There are so many different threads to follow here. Not the least of which is the presence of USCT units in an area where slaves were still held. The sound of a record needle scratching the vinyl should be going through your head in that last paragraph.
But as I like to focus on the Emancipation Proclamation as an executive order with a decided focus on military operation and policy, let me take up that line. The troops mentioned were the 10th USCT. Lieutenant-Colonel Edward H. Powell, commanding the regiment, reported arriving and relieving parts of the First Maryland (Eastern Shore) on January 21, 1864. When Butler sent Powell to the Virginia Eastern Shore, he provided instructions which read in part:
The officer in command of the Tenth U.S. Colored will caution all his officers that there must be the strictest diligence and vigilance that no outrages of any sort are committed by his troops, for both he and his officers will be held personally responsible by me if any such are committed. The inhabitants there fear greatly the quartering of negro troops in their midst. I depend upon him and the good conduct of his troops to correct that misapprehension, for I assure both him and them that the most summary punishment will be visited upon them for any breach of discipline, especially any that shall affect peaceable men. The commanding officer will immediately take measures to recruit his regiment to the fullest extent. He will give receipts to all loyal men who have taken the oath prescribed by the President’s proclamation for any slave which may be recruited. He will report to me immediately any deficiency in his officers, incompetency, or any vacancy that may exist, that the one may be taken notice of and the other filled….
Clearly Butler was aware of the issues later raised by Pierpont. In fact, he addressed such in a letter to Elizabeth Upshur, a resident of Northampton County, on January 10, responding to her inquiry about rumors concerning a USCT garrison:
If I could believe for a moment any of the consequences would follow which you detail it certainly should not be done. Experience, however, has shown that colored troops properly officered are less aggressive than white ones in the places where they are quartered, from the fact that they have been accustomed from their childhood to give up their will to the will of those who are over them.
Butler spent a paragraph assuaging her fears and dismissing reports of poor conduct by the regiments in North Carolina. He concluded the letter, “Therefore calm your fears. I will hold myself responsible that no outrage shall be committed against any peaceful citizens.”
Again, looking at this as a military extension of the Emancipation Proclamation, consider the twist. In a county that was except from militarily enforced abolition, emancipated slaves, which were formed into a regiment authorized by the Proclamation, were ordered to perform garrison details. There was still significant reluctance, despite the performance of USCT regiments in the summer of 1863, to place those regiments on the front lines in the major field armies. And as noted above, there was reluctance to have the USCT perform garrison duties in some areas to relieve white soldiers. At some point, due to weight of numbers if nothing else, the USCT would have to be used for something.
Considering Butler’s remark about the “properly officered” USCTs, I am reminded of similar conclusions from Morris Island in September. That’s where the “military thread” leads in this case.
(Citations from OR, Series I, Volume 33, Serial 60, pages 371, 375, 432-3.)
Raids from Port Royal into the coastal plantations of South Carolina and Georgia were commonplace by the fall of 1863. Starting early that year, these raids focused on something more than simple harassment of Confederate posts. As seen with the St. Mary’s River expedition,the Combahee Raid, and later Edisto River operation, Federal forces engaged in what I’d cite as the active component of the Emancipation Proclamation. Another of those type operations took place on November 23-24, 1863.
Tipped that a group of thirty slaves were gathering in the vicinity of Pocotalio, South Carolina, Brigadier-General Rufus Saxton in Port Royal dispatched a small force to that vicinity. Captain John E. Bryant, of the 8th Maine Infantry, lead this force, consisting of sixty men of Companies E and K, 1st South Carolina Volunteer Infantry (soon to be the 33rd US Colored Troops). Bryant had already established a reputation as a scout in the swamps and marshes. Captain Alexander Heasley, of Company E, and Captain Henry Whitney, of Company K, commanded their respective detachments under Bryant.
The raiders would advance by way of ships up the Broad River to the Pocotalio River. There they would move by boats through the marshes to a landing and proceed on foot to the designated rendezvous point. Along the way, they had to capture a known Confederate picket post along the Broad River in order to keep the movement secret.
Execution of the first phases of the raid fell not to a white officer, but to a black sergeant in the ranks of Company K, as Saxton reported:
The pickets, 2 in number, with their horses, were captured. Sergt. Harry Williams, of Company K, went with a party and liberated 27 slaves on the Heyward plantation, 6 miles in advance of our force and within 4 miles of the enemy’s headquarters. Great credit is due this dusky warrior for the skill with which he managed his part of the affair.
Sergeant Harry Williams
Coming back with the freed slaves, the party ran into fog that prevented their return to the boats. The raiding party, escaped slaves, and Heasley’s covering force waited in the fog for the boats. Meanwhile, according to a report filed by Brigadier General William S. Walker, Confederate commander of the Third Military District, a rebel detachment responded to alarms sent from Heyward’s plantation.
They were closely pursued by Captain [J. T.] Foster, with 25 men of Rutledge’s regiment of cavalry. The negroes took shelter in a very dense thicket near Cunningham’s Bluff (opposite Hall’s Island). Captain Foster dismounted his command and charged them, in skirmishing order.
In Foster’s party were a group of men in charge of bloodhounds. Walker described the pursuit as a “fox chase.” Heasley waited until the dogs were practically upon the force before ordering bayonets against the dogs, followed by a volley against the Confederates. This killed three of the dogs and drove off Foster’s men for the moment. Other Confederate forces under Colonel B.H. Rutledge arrived, but were unable to get at the Federal party due to the marshes.
As the Federal force withdrew further, the Confederates continued to press them. Whitney’s detachment, which was positioned to guard the bluffs, then ambushed the pursuers. Saxton wrote, “he opened fire upon them, killing, among others, the commander of the company and the remaining bloodhounds.” Saxton added:
To those who doubt whether the negro soldiers will fight, this daring act of Captain Whitney and his little band of 10, opening fire unhesitatingly upon a full company, not less than 100 of the enemy’s cavalry, and repulsing them, this will be a startling fact.
With that, the raiding force returned to the boats and departed for Port Royal Sound.
Federal reports mentioned seven wounded, though none seriously. But Rufus claimed five Confederate killed and many more wounded, out of an estimated 1,000 (!) sent in pursuit. On the other hand, Walker reported only three wounded, none seriously. One of the two captured pickets later escaped. Walker added, “this is the first time the men of this portion of the command have been under fire.”
Both accounts emphasized the employment of the dogs in the pursuit. In Army Life in a Black Regiment, Colonel Thomas Higginson added some perspective:
The whole command was attacked by a rebel force, which turned out to be what was called in those regions a “dog-company,” consisting of mounted riflemen with half a dozen trained bloodhounds. The men met these dogs with their bayonets, killed four or five of their old tormentors with great relish, and brought away the carcass of one. I had the creature skinned, and sent the skin to New York to be stuffed and mounted, meaning to exhibit it at the Sanitary Commission Fair in Boston; but it spoiled on the passage. These quadruped allies were not originally intended as “dogs of war,” but simply to detect fugitive slaves, and the men were delighted at this confirmation of their tales of dog-companies, which some of the officers had always disbelieved.
To some degree these raiding actions were simply wide scale slave escapes, now encouraged by forces which only years earlier had been legally bound against such activity. However, in the broader context of the Civil War, these raids were sapping away the labor force on which the Confederacy depended. At the same time, raids such as that conducted on the Pocotaligo 150 years ago were manifestations of a war policy set forward with the Emancipation Proclamation, and reiterated only days earlier at Gettysburg. The best counter to the “dog-companies” was an armed U.S Colored Troops detachment.
(Citations from OR, Series I, Volume 28, Part I, Serial 46, pages 745-6; Thomas W. Higginson, Army Life in a Black Regiment, Oxford University, 1870, pages 230-1.)
Today many will recall, with good reason, President Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. Several contemporary written copies of that famous speech offer slight variations. The words may be different, but the meaning is there. We tend to forget in the context of the time, that speech, and its meaning, were extensions of Lincoln’s policies – his greater goals beyond just seeing the war through to a successful conclusion.
But policy statements are but hollow words without action. If the President really, honestly, intended there be a “new birth of freedom” then where do we see that in action? On the battlefield? Yes… on the battlefield.
Months earlier, Major-General Quincy Gillmore General Orders No. 77. Section I of that order read:
It has come to the knowledge of the brigadier-general commanding that the detachments of colored troops detailed for fatigue duty have been employed, in one instance at least, to prepare camps and perform menial duty for white troops. Such use of these details is unauthorized and improper, and is hereafter expressly prohibited.
Commanding officers of colored regiments are directed to report promptly to these headquarters any violations of this order which may come to their knowledge.
As mentioned in an earlier post, in the context of this order the Federal troops on Morris Island were engaged in a long, bitter siege. And during that siege, the Army employed the U.S. Colored Troops to a larger degree than ever before. USCT regiments served in the lines, often on specific details, along side white volunteer regiments. This lead some to evaluate, or perhaps RE-evaluate is a more applicable word, the nature of race as it applied to the combat environment.
But apparently not all on Morris Island had fully re-evaluated. A week after Lincoln’s address, Gillmore issued General Orders No. 105 on November 25, 1863. The first section of that order read:
The major-general commanding has heretofore had occasion to rebuke officers of this command for imposing improper labors upon colored troops. He is now informed that the abuses sought to be corrected still exist. Attention is called to General Orders, No. 77, current series, from these headquarters, and commanding officers are enjoined to see to its strict enforcement. Colored troops will not be required to perform any labor which is not shared by the white troops, but will receive, in all respects, the same treatment and be allowed the same opportunities for drill and instruction.
Again, don’t paint Gillmore as an advocate for front seats on the bus, or even at the lunch counter. The context is clear – if black troops were willing to carry the muskets and risk their lives, they should receive the same respects as white troops.
The path from Civil War to Civil Rights contains many waypoints like G.O. 77 and G.O. 105. Lincoln’s 272 words stand as a marvel of the English language and serve as the centerpiece to a national legacy. Not to detract from that, but I’m drawn to those words from Gillmore. That order put action behind the words.
(Citations from OR, Series I, Volume 28, Part II, Serial 47, pages 95 and 123.)
As I left work yesterday, there was a flurry of activity around the National Mall, Freedom Plaza, open spaces in Federal Triangle, and elsewhere. A lot of preparation for an anniversary observance – 50th Anniversary of the Civil Rights March on Washington.
So why would I bring that up on a Civil War blog? Oh, yes the whole Civil-War-to-Civil-Rights theme. If you have read this blog for long, you know I have some concerns about how that theme is presented in, if you want to call it such, “pop history.” In the effort to try to summarize a complex topic into a short paragraph, or even one sentence, there is a great disservice to history. And even when given ample space to explore the complexity of the topic, historians often botch the job. See for instance the performance (yes, let’s call it what it was) of Doris Kerns Goodwin at Gettysburg on June 30 of this year. The failing there, as with so many of the Civil-War-to-Civil-Rights efforts is the reluctance to look at the details – what I call the mechanics – of how Civil Rights were advanced during, through, and as a reaction to the Civil War. Instead, we tend to see what I’ve called a “bad grafting” of the two lines. Again, as with Goodwin talking for nearly an hour and only mentioning “war” in the context of her anti-war activity in the 1960s.
A reason, but not the only reason, the Civil-War-to-Civil-Rights theme escapes capture into a single passage is because the advance of Civil Rights was, and is, one of increments. It involves bus seats, lunch counters, pay scales, and other smaller points that tend to build the larger change. Martin Luther King’s speech on August 28, 1963 did not directly change practices, but rather it changed minds. Many minds then were inspired to press changes, small and large. Such is the story of Civil Rights. But King’s speech came at a time when the crucible of the times, a combination of social and international pressures, laid bare many issues of equality in the nation.
The same was true of the times 100 years prior to King’s speech. There’s a wealth of primary source materials which we can draw upon to better illustrate this Civil-War-to-Civil-Rights theme, and show those incremental advances. But most often that requires a great deal of context, offered by the writer, and understanding, assumed by the reader, when coming to grip with this complex theme. Indeed, both subject lines in their own right are complex themes, making the confluence even more so. Both deserve study, in and out. We need to delve into those details. We should look at examples where the war forced authorities, military and civilian, to address inequality and thus in some increments advance Civil Rights by establishing precedence.
Crystal N Feimster, mentioned one of those in her recent New York Times Disunion blog post, “Rape and Justice in the Civil War.” (And of course expands upon that in her book.) As the war progressed, the military leaders had to deal with situations where soldiers took advantage of the recently freed slaves. In particular, rape of former slaves. The application of the Lieber Code in those cases forced authorities to view African-American women, formerly slaves, as humans deserving equal protection under the law. Not exactly a sweeping change that is easily explained in a single sentence. To understand it at all, we need to delve into the Lieber Code and why it existed at all. And to see that, we have to take up a lot of questions about situations on the front lines of the war.
Another example, closer to my themes of late on this blog, comes from Morris Island. Brigadier-General Qunicy Gillmore issued General Orders No. 77 on September 17, 1863. Section I of that order read:
It has come to the knowledge of the brigadier-general commanding that the detachments of colored troops detailed for fatigue duty have been employed, in one instance at least, to prepare camps and perform menial duty for white troops. Such use of these details is unauthorized and improper, and is hereafter expressly prohibited.
Commanding officers of colored regiments are directed to report promptly to these headquarters any violations of this order which may come to their knowledge.
Labor equality? In 1863? Yes, 100 years before the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. No, we can’t go so far to say Quincy Gillmore was a “drum major.” But someone out there on Morris Island in the summer of 1863 would qualify.
That order was the result of specific situations on Morris Island. My blog postings of late have chipped away at the context of those situations, by looking at the details of the work done. What I really need to do to better weld the connection here is highlight the nature of the fatigue details employed… or in short identify who was building what sections of the trenches at what time. In some cases, that is well documented. For instance the engineers noted the work of the 3rd US Colored Troops on the fourth parallel. But in other cases the source material is hard to come by. No excuse, because that’s the sort of quest which drive historians to perfection. And I accept that challenge.
And the fatigue detail order is not a singular example from Morris Island. The campaign abounds with examples of Civil-War-to-Civil-Rights – the trial of prisoners of the 54th Massachusetts, handling of runaways from the Confederate work details, integrated teams working in the trenches of Morris Island, general Confederate dealing with the USCT, and more. (To the point one has to wonder, “where’s the book?”)
If we are going to bring up waypoints on the journey of Civil Rights, then we have an obligation to discuss why those are waypoints to begin with. We must examine the ground on which that waypoint is placed. And along with that the line of march between that and the next waypoint. Doesn’t matter if we are talking about the Emancipation Proclamation, the Buffalo Soldiers, the 93rd Infantry Division, the Tuskegee Airmen, Jackie Robinson, or, as we are today, the March on Washington.
Civil-War-to-Civil-Rights should not just be some compulsory blurb in the line of public interpretation. We should put some weight to that story.
