150 Voices for 150 Years: An Autobiography of Us William E. Rogers was a young law student in 1861 when America began to fight with itself. He enlisted on, ironically, July 4, 1861, but the decision was not an easy one. Williams parents were no different from any other parent. They worried about their sons well-being and wanted to shield him from the inevitable scars of war. No doubt they admired their sons call to serve, proof that they had raised an honorable young man, but that same honor was leading him on a direct path to danger. The beautifully written letter that follows was written to Williams father and voices a problem faced by young people throughout history: do you follow your heart and disappoint your parents or ignore your own ambitions to do what will make them happy? Dear Father, The Lester Volunteers are now preparing to start for the seat of the war, and, I fell it to be my duty to ask your consent before I go. When I volunteered for one year you seemed perfectly willing; but when I saw you last you seemed dissatisfied that I had agreed to go during the war. It is needless for me to say anything in regard to the change the Congress of the Confederate States has made. Let it suffice to say that I think it nothing but right, and if I did not, I would be willing to go anyhow. Nothing can be too hard, no sacrifice too great when Liberty is at stake. But a father’s love will foresee dangers and urge a cause of fear. You point me to toils, hardships and dangers of a soldier’s life, these I know are great; but is the strong right arm of God too weak to protect, too short to defend me from the vices and crimes which surround the soldier—the only enemies I fear? Shall I not trust in Him? “Ah! But death is almost certain” you respond. Would you teach me to fear to die in defense of right, of truth, of justice? Fighting for the land of my birth, for the rights guaranteed to us by the Eternal God, for the home I love, I feel that death in its most horrid and ghastly form would have no terrors for me. “But perhaps you will not be needed; wait until you are called for again” you reply. I have heard this advance often, and have as repeatedly inquired, when will that be? Will it be necessary only when our land is invaded and laid waste with fire and sword; when the Confederate flag trails in the dust, our army defeated and disorganized? No, father the first gun that boomed from Fort Sumpter called in thunder tones upon me to rally to the standard of my country and I burn to answer that call. But I feel that I cannot go without your consent, for you are my father and as such have a right to say whether or not I shall go. I beg of you, as you love me, without not your consent. If you refuse, I must obey; but when it is done, life will have lost all its charms for me. Oh, call me not back. Rather immune me in some loathsome dungeon; let me be the cringing vassal of some heartless tyrant; blind, rivet the clanking chains of an ignoble perpetuated slavery upon me, rather than shower my head with the blessings of a liberty bought with the blood of others. Let me pour out the gushing fountain of my own heart to secure my own right and I am content. I want no liberty but my own, achieved, by my own exertions and purchased by my own blood. Call me not a blind enthusiast. Does love of country need a stimulant to call it into action? Must reason be dethroned that the fires of patriotism be aroused? No idle dream of fame no slavish love of money, actuates me. All I ask is to fight for my country. I want no remuneration. Give me a few tattered rags to hide my nakedness—a crust to appease the gnawings of hunger, and Liberty and I am happy. You want me to continue my studies. Do you suppose I can forget a bleeding country and devote my time to the study of law? Impossible! Soon my mind is wandering over the thunder of cannon on our borders and see the smoke of battle ascend in dense columns toward heaven, and books, home, self are all forgotten, and I long for the hour of departure to arrive. I know it will wring my heart to bid you, perhaps a last farewell. Were I the only one to regret my leaving, I could go without a sigh; but to see my friends in tears is too much for me. Every day I think of that sad, sad hour, and my heart swells with grief, tears flow unrestrained. I sit down sometimes in my room, at the lone hour of the night, when all eyes save those of an all-seeing God are close in sleep, sometimes in the depth of the forest beneath the over-shadowing branches of some monarch of the woods and give vent to the long pent-up feelings of an aching heart. Do not suppose however, that this or anything else will keep me from going. Tell Mother to make what clothes she wants me to have; we expect to start in two or three weeks. Now, father let me entreat you with all the earnestness of my heart to give your consent willingly, and a father’s partying blessing. I cannot go without them; I cannot live and stay at home. Your son, - William E. Rogers William served in the 14th Regiment of the Georgia Volunteer Infantry, Company E, Army of Northern Virginia, CSA, out of Forsyth County, Georgia. He was wounded at Seven Pines, Virginia, on May 31, 1862, and discharged on March 10, 1863, due to insanity. He later re-enlisted in 1864 and was, sadly, killed at Willow Creek, Cobb County, Georgia the same year. #150VoicesOfUs #HashtagHistory
Posted on: Fri, 02 May 2014 10:00:00 +0000