I
have visited Virginia Military Institute in Lexington, Virginia. This fine
school has a more notable history than most schools in our great nation. For
you see, Stonewall Jackson was a professor there before being called into
Confederate service.
There’s a small museum on the premises of
VMI. Perhaps the most interesting, and most poignant area of the museum houses
a few momentos that commemorate the life of General Jackson. We see his horse;
(yes, his horse has been stuffed, or to be more precise, the hide of the
original horse has been stretched over an approximate life form.)
But, by far the most interesting relic, to
me, is Stonewall’s coat. Oh, it’s a bit tattered and worn, but is in generally
good shape; with one exception. There is a gaping hole in the sleeve of one
arm.
Jackson was a spiritual man, and had
trusted the Lord Jesus Christ for his salvation. He was celebrated among his
troops, and was known to be fair, and trustworthy. He did have his quirks, it
seems. One famous quirk was his tendency to ride with one arm high in the air.
He told inquisitive parties that this practice kept his metabolism in balance!
One night General Jackson decided to scout
out the enemy’s defenses. He took an aide with him, and galloped off into the
woods. Having spied out the Union perimeter, he began his journey back to his
own lines. Just as he attempted to cross his own picket line, shots rang out,
and he fell from his horse. Too late, his loyal troops realized their mistake.
Too late.
Stonewall was taken by field ambulance to a
nearby residence, for immediate treatment. His arm was badly shattered, and had
to be amputated shortly thereafter. Bullets of that era were extremely large,
and their velocity was relatively slow. Such characteristics cause tremendous
damage to flesh and bone. This was not a pretty war, nor were the devices of
war easy on the human body. Cannons were loaded with canister (similar to ball
bearings,) and fired directly into masses of charging enemy soldiers. History
tells us that little more than red mist remained.
Stonewall Jackson had lost a limb, and
General Lee romanticized him this way: “General Jackson has lost his left arm,
but I have lost my right;” (speaking of the sacrifice his dear friend had made
that day.)
General Jackson seemed to improve after
the amputation, and his troops grew hopeful for his health. But then Pneumonia
set in, and he relapsed. Just before he breathed his last, Stonewall was heard
to say, “Let us sit down under yonder trees and rest awhile.” These were his
final words.
We have a term for what happened to our
dear Southern general. The designation has been used in every war since the
Civil War. “Friendly Fire.” Of course in the long run, there’s nothing friendly
about any bullet that “has your name written on it.”
I often carry a “Minnie Ball” in my
pocket. Bullets like this one have been dug up by the millions on land adjacent
to Civil War battlefields. Thousands are turned up every year as farmers till
their soil, on farms bordering famous battle sites. Millions were expended, and
most never hit anything.
I’ve been known to pull that old bullet
out of my pocket during a counseling session. I begin to tell the tale I’ve
spun here, and clients sit with silent interest, as I draw a moral from this
ancient event.
We are guilty, every one of us, of
Friendly Fire. We have all “cut down” our friends and family with verbal
bullets. We have all blown figurative canister shot in their face with the
cannons that are our mouths; smoking hot with wrath, or disrespect.
Sometimes I give my clients Minnie Balls
to carry around with them, especially if they are prone towards anger, and
marital contention. It’s a healthy reminder of the damage they have done with
their words.
The Bible tells us that our Words are
Spirit and Life. Words can also be Spirit and Death. Friendly Fire isn’t really
friendly. We ought to learn a lesson from General Jackson, and the sad plight
that was his mortal end.
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