Civil War Soldier Fraternization and some Thoughts on Reconciliation - A Review of Lauren K. Thompson's Latest

Lauren K. Thompson Friendly Enemies: Soldier Fraternization throughout the American Civil War (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2020).   

Somewhere in the neighborhood of three million men served in the ranks of Civil War armies. For the most part, they were ordinary men hailing from all regions and all walks of life - farmers (lots of these...), mechanics, craftsmen, shopkeepers, clerks, students, and even teachers (Lord have mercy). They were men who believed in God and embraced a sense of moral conviction, who had desires, ambitions, loves, and fears. They were sons, brothers, husbands, fathers, and friends. They were in every way average Americans of the 19th century who found themselves caught up in extraordinary circumstances irrevocably disrupting their lives.

If they were around to ask…at the individual level I mean, I think it stands to reason that any particular farm boy from Indiana might not have voiced a personal beef with any particular farm boy from Georgia. And yet…they found themselves on opposite sides of a bloody conflagration tasked to kill each other. All things considered…during intermissions between grisly episodes of death in great profusion, individuals were still driven to reach out across lines of battle…and engage their enemies on more friendly terms. They exchanged the sorts of things one might imagine: news, coffee, tobacco, gripes. And, as Lauren K. Thompson suggests in her new book, Friendly Enemies, together they made every attempt to lessen the privations of war on their own terms.   

Thompson does a wonderful job casting these men as representative of their communities and embodying of the ideals of democratic republics at war. As citizen soldiers, volunteers mostly, they understood their duty. But at the same time, these were men who were, for the most part, used to having a say in how things transpired…and as such saw opportunities to resolve things on their own – by seeking out enemies, agreeing to temporary ceasefires and, in essence, creating their own physical space for negotiation. They took these opportunities – despite having strict orders forbidding fraternization. Thompson concludes that their fraternization worked as a form of resistance nonetheless undertaken by men who were motivated to see the war through. I found this especially compelling – there are numerous examples in letters home of men in the ranks challenging the “wisdom” of their officers but who still believed in the virtues (even Divine sanction) of their respective causes.

This line of argumentation is especially helpful for students who are grappling with the perplexing scenes of men who on one day could be perfectly amicable with one another and the next engaged fierce to-the-death combat. Thompson and I would agree that these were ideologically motivated men – a debatable assertion by the way…which would be apparent to anyone familiar with the literature. We would also agree they were men who knew precisely what they had to do and generally did their duty. But she adds another layer of analysis to the story – one that I will now be asking my students to ponder in the classroom: a survey of soldiers’ endeavors when not locked in battle strongly suggests that ordinary fighting men thought they knew better when going about the intricate dance of warfare.  

As much as I enjoyed this book, I also think there is room for some constructive analytical disagreement here. Thompson notes, correctly I believe, that soldier fraternization was a “white only” phenomenon. I would have been surprised to find Confederates fraternizing with black Union soldiers. Fair enough… but she continues to suggest that this presaged the whitewashed reconciliatory impulses of the postwar nationalist landscape – coming to a conclusion similar to David Blight’s forcefully argued contention in Race and Reunion: those who had experienced the conflict collectively agreed to dismiss the “emancipationist” vision of war and instead commemorated a war devoid of issues – on white supremacist “southern terms.”  In my book, Across the Bloody Chasm, published way back in 2014, I argued against this position by underscoring the numerous occasions in which veterans professed reconciliation but still pointed accusatory finger across the Potomac and invoked slavery, emancipation, and freedom regularly. I’ve since revised my position through an examination of commemorative events positioning freedom as a reflection of American Exceptionalism in the late 19thand early 20th centuries…where restrictions applied. This, not incidentally, is the subject of my current project. Even though I have softened my arguments a little in the interest of nuance, and because the evidence has convinced me to take another look, I still contend that there was a thread of Union veteran sentiment woven into the national commemorative fabric celebrating a “new birth of freedom.”     

So…when I resurrect my podcast later this year, I hope to welcome Dr. Thompson on for a chat. One point I will certainly press is intention. Sure, veterans who reflected positively on the shared fraternal moments between the lines of battle did so within the context of Jim Crow. Were they distancing themselves from divisive issues with purpose? Did their reflections on these moments reveal something beyond the stated reconciliatory forgive-and-forget theme?  Does intension really matter when the end result is the same?

Though Thompson and I might diverge on a few points, I enjoyed the hell out of this book – really…I read it in one sitting. It is beautifully written with brisk and engaging prose, and it’s accessible to the general reader – what I always find refreshing. Most important, this work compels the reader to think about familiar events in new and engaging ways. So, with that in mind, I offer my most enthusiastic endorsement…and hope that I will be able to carry on the conversation with the author down the road.

With compliments,

Keith