During a recent bout of channel surfing, I chanced upon the BBC's comprehensive coverage of King Charles's notable attendance at the London annual Trooping the Colour celebration. This significant event, held every June 15 and known as the King's Birthday Parade, is steeped in history. More than 1,400 officers and enlisted men, accompanied by 200 horses and over 400 musicians, participated in this grand affair. These troops, fully trained and operational British soldiers, were adorned in the traditional ceremonial uniform of red tunics and bearskin caps. The King himself took the time to inspect and assess the Irish Guards. This martial spectacle, a part of the British monarchy's rich historical tapestry, might be unfamiliar to many Americans who, in our colonial past at least,  have historically been unacquainted with such elaborate displays of military power. 

I found the pageantry and precision, the orderliness and discipline, remarkable and beautiful, much like what Robert E. Lee saw when watching the precision and purpose behind the tragic and futile attack on Marye's Heights on December 13, 1862. As he was watching the Union's repeated attacks, he reportedly remarked that, "it is well that war is so terrible, or we should grow too fond of it."  

What I feel Lee was getting at was that - despite the pageantry and the appearance of good order - the reality is that all war is a bloody business and not to be treated lightly. Many of history's top military thinkers, from Sun-Tzu, William Techumsa Sherman to Colin Powell, feel that war should be a last resort after all other alternatives have been exhausted. As a counterweight to our British cousin's display of military pride and tradition, our cable news outlets have been filled in recent days with the horrid images of the ongoing struggles in Ukraine and the Middle East, where we see little of the pageantry of linear lines of troops marching in precise form, a traditional form of warfare, but only randomness and the horror of innocents being caught up in the conflict, a more modern and chaotic form of warfare.  

Readers of Hardtack Illustrated and all of us who obsessively recall our own American Civil War should be reminded of Lee's warning from more than a century and half ago.  As we delve into the details of the American Civil War, study its campaigns, and analyze troop movements, it's important to acknowledge the high cost of the conflict, nearly 700,000 killed, and reflect on the benefits it brought: the end of codified slavery on this continent. For me personally, who has been asked little to sacrifice for our freedom's sake, it's something I needed to be reminded of.  

It's our third issue of Hardtack Illustrated, and we are encouraged by the number of views the electronic magazine is receiving. Since our spring 2024 release of George Alfred Townsend's memoir Campaigns of a Non-Combatant: The Memoir of a Civil War Correspondent, the book is now available in many outlets, including Amazon, B&N, and Bookshop.org. 

As we approach the anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg and the reopening of the iconic Little Round Top after a year-long rehabilitation, we felt it was only right to honor this momentous occasion by sharing some authentic voices of those who witnessed it. In "I Would Have not Missed this for Anything," we include  Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle's vivid description of Pickett's Charge and the atmosphere on the Rebel side of Cemetery Ridge following the repulse.  Fremantle, positioned in the most suitable place to observe General Robert E. Lee's composure, provides a unique and personal perspective that brings the events of the battle to life.     

In another memoir, just as relevant but from the Union side of the ridge, is the Vermont native Frank Haskell's excerpt, which we entitle "An Awful Universe of Battle." In this account, Haskell provides a detailed, minute-by-minute narrative of the crucial moments when, for a few minutes, it seemed the tide of battle would favor the Rebels once more. This narrative, as Bruce Catton recognized, is "one of the genuine classics of Civil War Literature." It's a significant piece that deepens our understanding of the battle. We have supplemented Haskell's excerpt with recent images I took of the Paul Philippoteaux's cyclorama painting which is on display at the Gettysburg Museum and Visitor Center. 
Living near Perryville, Maryland, and frequently passing by the sign on I-95, we find the report carried in the Cecil Whig, a pro-Union organ out of Cecil County in north-eastern Maryland, of the brief bustling atmosphere around Perryville in the first year of the war to be eye-opening. The Mule School there furnished thousands of unfortunate beasts for the heavy loads supplying the eastern war effort. As a sidebar, we delve into some intriguing little-known facts about the Stump Mansion, a historical gem that was repurposed as a headquarters. It's still there and available for tours.   

In "Going to the Front: Recollections of a Private," we carry an account from Warren Lee Goss, a native of Massachusetts, who following the war, gained some notoriety as a children's novelist and a whistle-blower on the treatment of Union prisoners of war. He was also an avid storyteller and shared his early days after enlistment. This edition includes an account, which also appeared in serial form in Battles and Leaders of the Civil War, that offers a glimpse into the wit and charm that Goss brought to his writings.

I would like to extend to readers the opportunity to contact me in case you come across Civil War era material which you think would be great to include in future editions, or if you can think of ways to improve.  I can be reached at jeffreybiggs@verizon.net.