Major Sullivan Ballou was in his early 30s when he joined the Union Army’s Rhode Island Volunteers. At the outbreak of the Civil War. Actor Edward Jarrow reads from Major Blue’s now famous letter to his wife.
July 14th, 1861. Washington, D.C. my very dear Sarah, the indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days, perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more. Our movement may be one of a few days duration, and full of pleasure, and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me, not my will, but thine.
Oh, God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American civilization now leans upon the triumph of the government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the revolution.
And I am willing, perfectly willing, to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this government, and to pay that debt. I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night when 2000 men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps before that of death, and I suspicious. The death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart.
I am communing with God. My country and the Sarah. My love for you is deathless. It seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but omnipotence could break. And yet my love of country comes over me like a strong wind. And bears me irresistibly on. With all these chains to the battlefield. The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you.
Come creeping over me. And I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long and hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and love together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us.
For oh, Sarah, what if the dead can come back to this earth and split unseen around those they loved? I shall always be near you in the garish day. And in the darkest night. Amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours. Always, always. And if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek. It shall be my breath. Or the cool air.
Fans. Your throbbing temple. It shall be my spirit passing by. Oh, Sarah, I wait for you there. Come to me and lead thither. My children will Sullivan.
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