Those are good points. Especially about moving out, that is why Family Farms seems to do better when there were a lot of kids.
Until Every Drop of Blood Is Paid: A More Radical American Civil War
- Thread starter Red_Galiray
- Start date
Community farms also help with moving into farming; You could start with doing one job and then gradually build up your knowledge base, rather than having to learn how to manage an entire farm all at once.
SwampTiger
Banned
40 acres is too small for long term success, unless you grow tobacco. Even a 100 acre farm is limited over time. There is a reason we see agri-business today. For the late 1900's, the small farm will allow a smaller family to survive. By 1900, you will see an internal immigration to cities and the west.
Communal farming was not the norm in 19th Century America. It is an anachronism to create them in this time period. Additionally, communal farming failed in Soviet Russia. Although some factors for that failure may not be present here, the ultimate failure was human. Farmers, like most people, want control over their property and crops. They may accept advice. Ultimately though, the average farmer will do what he sees as best for himself and his family.
Communal farming was not the norm in 19th Century America. It is an anachronism to create them in this time period. Additionally, communal farming failed in Soviet Russia. Although some factors for that failure may not be present here, the ultimate failure was human. Farmers, like most people, want control over their property and crops. They may accept advice. Ultimately though, the average farmer will do what he sees as best for himself and his family.
It was not the norm among white farmers because for them the supply of land vastly outstripped demand after the Army cleared the West of Indians. When access to new land is limited, like it has been for most groups for most of human history, and in the case of the 19th Century for blacks and Indians, collaboration and shared ownership of resources makes a resurgence. Like you said, 40 acres is really hard to translate into long term success, and IOTL giving even that went too far for many in the Union. If the extent of land reparations to freed slaves will thus be limited, why then be so insistent on cutting what reparations they get into little postage stamps and taking every black family to life off of it?
And, alright then, the form of communal farming practiced in the USSR failed. How does that lead to making us write off possibly the most common social organisation in post-nomadic human history? I can with just as much ease say it would be ridiculous for the US here to give homesteads on a family basis, because modern family farming in the US is on tax-funded life support and thus can never work in any time, place, or context. Again, the arrangement found by freed slave communities doesn't have to follow the model of the Soviet collective farm; unless you think employee-owned enterprises in general can never work, I don't see why you should think one that happens to work in agriculture is doomed to failure.
Thanks!
Thank you!
I am considering selling a complete ebook of this once it's complete. To sweeten the deal for the people who have already read the TL, it would be an expanded revision that would rewrite and expand the first few chapters, and include bonus content.
Nothing fancy, just simple Paint.net. I realized the star was blurry too late, but will correct it before I actually make the pdf.
I absolutely hate smoking, so I think it's a shame that Grant was such a big fan of cigars.
I think you all will forgive me for taking some artistic license and saying Grant lives beyond his OTL death. After all, there are cases of smokers who for some reason or another never got cancer, or drinkers who never developed cirrhosis. I don't think it's too outlandish to believe Grant could live some years more due to pure luck, and it would allow me to write such a sweet scene.
I think it's possible for the farms to be held communally or quasi-communally (technically they are private but all the neighbors band together to farm) during the first years, when defending their land against White terrorism and economic collapse makes it necessary. In later years, as the South recovers and Reconstruction is accepted, then the freedmen divide their lands and become more independent.
Thank you!
Not necessarily, since some freedmen held land communally during the war and its "experiments" on free labor. And this is the midst of revolution, where such measures may be accepted.
Out topic but I have growth enamoured with Little Women over the past couple of days. I watched both the 1994 and 2019 versions, and they are quite good. I raise this because due to this I stumbled into Geraldine Brooks' March, about the Father's experiences during the war. It's a very, very good book. So, if anybody would like to read a depiction of the war from the point of view of a common man, that's a good choice. I wonder if an ITTL version of Little Women would be more open about the family's abolitionism...
Last edited:
Am I the only one who gets Rorschach vibes from Sherman?
I've been wondering what exactly I found so recognizable about him, but this statement clinched it.
Hell, if it gets them to the right place I don't care how they rationalize it.
But now I'm imagining some Southern Druid with a drawl calling on the power of nature to fight the confederacy. It's a weird image, but it amuses me.
The concept of purification through violence or even just the practicality of it is already a mainstay of the culture here.
It's just that the subject of that violence is most often focused outward against an other of some kind.
"War makes a man out of boys." Is a mentality that exists here, and a great deal of our national mythology is wrapped around the United States, its wars and its victories.
The way we consider WW2 and the Depression before it, you'd think killing Nazis and Japanese were the secrets to economic prosperity.
And the reverse of that purification is just as true. Victories are cleansing, victories mean all is well, but defeat and stalemates? Those are signs of decline, of failure, of degeneration.
Vietnam was a black mark on US political discourse for at least the next 20 years afterward and in the present Iraq and Afghanistan have largely taken its place.
And in the 70s as much as in the present, the wish for those who are most enamored with that idea of redemptive violence is an urge for victories.
They urge for more troops, more commitment, to finally resolve the impurities that can't be purged. To make a great show of virtue so that all that is wrong can be set right, and the troops can come with their honor intact. And so on...
The greatest change would not be in violence entering into politics, but rather that such violence being perpetrated against one's own becomes legitimized.
Because we've been very fine with using violence to change things, just abroad or against those considered outside the bounds of polite society.
Doubt
Tell that to Henry Ford and every fascist collaborator.
Best one yet and I love itBy the way, I have created a new and updated cover! What do you think? Is it better than the other?
Henry ford hasn't been born yet and fascism hasn't been created. The commercialist north is going to crush the slave holding south.
I mean in reference to socialism.
My grandfather and grandmother were both lifelong smokers. My grandfather passed at 55 from long cancer, while my grandmother is still going strong (and still smoking) into her late 80s now. It's obviously terrible for one's health to smoke everyday, but some people just get lucky with how it goes, so I don't think it's unjustified if you choose for Grant to live a longer than average life.
I think it's okay, but to be on the safe side if you're going to give him almost 20 more years you need to Butterfly some of that smoking. But that's not hard to do, as was noted about Fort Donelson just have letters not get to him. With everything else going on it's easy to see that congratulatory letters might not be getting sent oh, we're not as many. Have him not receive all those cigars or receive a fair number but be able to give them all away and you cut down his smoking quite a bit. They say that if you stop smoking for a year, you add a year to your life you wouldn't have had had you continued.
So he still smokes, but like your average outdoor BBQ, not a chimney in Manitoba in January.
So he still smokes, but like your average outdoor BBQ, not a chimney in Manitoba in January.
It's a bitter thing to swallow, but some White Unionist can only be compeled to accept Black citizenship and civil rights as a way to oppose the rebels.
Brownlow as a warlock seems strangely fitting to me.
And that's a scary train of thought, but quite inevitable at this point.
Thank you very much!
Similarly, I have two uncles who were complete drunkards. One is dying, while another is completely fine. Everybody handles it differently.
I think it's okay, but to be on the safe side if you're going to give him almost 20 more years you need to Butterfly some of that smoking. But that's not hard to do, as was noted about Fort Donelson just have letters not get to him. With everything else going on it's easy to see that congratulatory letters might not be getting sent oh, we're not as many. Have him not receive all those cigars or receive a fair number but be able to give them all away and you cut down his smoking quite a bit. They say that if you stop smoking for a year, you add a year to your life you wouldn't have had had you continued.
So he still smokes, but like your average outdoor BBQ, not a chimney in Manitoba in January.
As far as I know, there was no equivalent of temperance for smoking, and it was not seen as a bad habit. Certainly, I can find plenty of statements condemning Grant as a drunk, but nothing about him smoking. I guess I'll just say that Grant decided to give the cigars to the men instead, and that should be enough to lower his smoking and delay his death.
Very much so, but I do think that so long as the peace is enforced after the war, those old norms and boundaries can return to some degree.
Perhaps it's a poor comparison, but the motivation behind the mutual destruction (cycle of atrocities and the closing of ranks within the two opposing societies) in this civil war as compared to that of something like the Cultural Revolution or the Terror is much more "closed ended", if that makes any sense.
The violence is rooted in the war, something much more concrete than a principle or revolutionary virtues.
If it ends, I think there'll be a chance for people to pick up the pieces and see to it that these events don't repeat themselves rather than codifying their practice.
But maybe that's too optimistic.
It's really a shame when things comes to the point they have ITTL. I imagine that the popular image of the Civil War is going to be far more traumatic in this TL.
In our's the war was bad, but the popular history is fixated on the progress that came from it: emancipation, citizenship rights, equal protection, etc.
And also the nature of Lincoln as a kind of martyr for the whole event only serves to further sanitize the image of the war. He's got a very Christlike mythos surrounding him.
But if he's alive after the end and the country (not just the south, but the country as a whole) has gone through so much pain and destruction, then the Civil War is going to feel less like glory & sacrifice and more like a national trauma. Sectional hatreds could persist for generations, even if reconstruction works out. (Intrasectional hatreds also, East Tennessee isn't going to forgot this any more than West Virginia or the Kansans*)
As an aside:
* When we talk about Reconstruction it's mostly in relation to how the freed people will be handled in the aftermath, but enmity between unionists and secessionists is likely even deeper still. Bleeding Kansas has more or less been an ongoing situation in this timeline for close to a decade, no? That's going to be at the forefront of the victors minds when they're constructing the peace, the question of:
"How do we avoid another national issue from spiralling into Optimates versus Populares?
"This time it was slavery, last time it was nearly tariffs, but in the future....who knows what we'll start shooting each other over?"
I think there could very well be a push to break up some of the most fractious states after the war.
Last edited:
"If the basis of popular government in peacetime is virtue, the basis of popular government during a revolution is both virtue and terror; virtue, without which terror is baneful; terror, without which virtue is powerless. Terror is nothing more than speedy, severe and inflexible justice; it is thus an emanation of virtue; it is less a principle in itself, than a consequence of the general principle of democracy, applied to the most pressing needs of the homeland." - Maximilien Robespierre
For Lincoln, the challenge is to help the elites and the enforcers of the South to reconcile to this new way of life while also showing enough steel to sate the North's call for blood following Southern atrocities. Arguably, one of the most useful things that someone like Britain or Russia could do postwar is agree to provide "refuge" to Southern elites who can never accept abolition - few people will fight to the death if they believe there is a path of retreat. Unlike Mexico or South America, London and St. Petersburg are too far away and protected by too many guns for a less strategically-minded post-Lincoln administration to demand extradition from. For the foot-soldiers of slavery, migration to the West, compelled either by the carrot of homesteading or the stick of transportation, can serve a similar purpose. While having whole communities in the West populated entirely by the teeth of the Confederate bonesaw is a liability with potential for giving the *KKK the keys to controlling an entire state, it's a relatively minor concession in exchange for marginalising the most dangerous elements of the Antebellum South. Besides, a few generations of no physical contact with black people would likely cause these communities to atrophy in their commitment to white supremacy - they'll doubtlessly be very misinformed by what will probably become ITTL the only unimpeded bastion of Lost Cause Mythology, but they'll at least potentially be in a mood to have their beliefs change with contact with the outside world.
The war is about more than just the dominance of one polity or another over a piece of territory, though, it's a conflict between two fundamentally incompatible ways of understanding humanity and organising society. A thousand years of conflict between France and Germany over former Lotharingia was able to end after both countries adopted mostly the same values following World War II, then the issue simply came to be one of allowing both to benefit from the region. But to do that Germany had to make a break from its Nazi legacy, it never would have been possible without it doing so. It's the same with this Civil War, resolution can only come with one side imposing its values on the other.
For Lincoln, the challenge is to help the elites and the enforcers of the South to reconcile to this new way of life while also showing enough steel to sate the North's call for blood following Southern atrocities. Arguably, one of the most useful things that someone like Britain or Russia could do postwar is agree to provide "refuge" to Southern elites who can never accept abolition - few people will fight to the death if they believe there is a path of retreat. Unlike Mexico or South America, London and St. Petersburg are too far away and protected by too many guns for a less strategically-minded post-Lincoln administration to demand extradition from. For the foot-soldiers of slavery, migration to the West, compelled either by the carrot of homesteading or the stick of transportation, can serve a similar purpose. While having whole communities in the West populated entirely by the teeth of the Confederate bonesaw is a liability with potential for giving the *KKK the keys to controlling an entire state, it's a relatively minor concession in exchange for marginalising the most dangerous elements of the Antebellum South. Besides, a few generations of no physical contact with black people would likely cause these communities to atrophy in their commitment to white supremacy - they'll doubtlessly be very misinformed by what will probably become ITTL the only unimpeded bastion of Lost Cause Mythology, but they'll at least potentially be in a mood to have their beliefs change with contact with the outside world.
Lincoln's image could be much less saintly than in OTL because he won't be a martyr and will have to grapple with the difficult questions of Reconstruction and is bound to make some mistakes. No one is perfect after all. The image of the Civil War as a regrettable event that could have been avoided, and all the praise for "the brave men on both sides" probably won't exist. As you say, it will be seen as a national trauma that left deep scars. Akin to the Spanish Civil War.
One of the worst things that could be done is to force the rebels to fight to the death. I think the choice of either accepting the new order or fleeing the country should be laid bare, thus giving them a "path of retreat". Some of the rebel leaders did flee and returned thanks to Johnson; ITTL that won't be an option. I wonder what's the maximum number of rebels that could flee the country?
Btw, after a flash of inspiration late at night, I tried my hand at a short narrative story focusing on a Kentucky Union soldier during Bragg's invasion. I don't think I'm a very good writer when it comes to the narrative style, but hopefully it's good and will serve to give an idea of how common people experience war ITTL. If this is well received I may try my hand at such vignettes in the future.
Last edited:
Side-story: "A Kentucky Boy"
A Kentucky Boy
“Who will care for mother now?”, the sorrowful song asked. James listening to it alongside his comrades, all submerged in a pensive mood. They knew that tomorrow they would have to face the foe, and if they failed, then Kentucky would be lost, and with it the country. Their gallant General Thomas would lead them to victory, James was sure. But even the most successful general would lose at least some men, and should James fall in battle, who would care for his mother? His heart ached when he pictured her sweet face, full of smiles when he was but a boy and full of tears when he left to fight for the Union. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave your mother!”, she had pleaded. It was natural, for he was her only son – Father had died many years ago, and John had perished gloriously at Dover.
James almost stayed. The scene was painfully familiar. More than a year ago they found of John’s death after perusing anxiously through the long casualty lists. Chicago reeled mad with joy, that’s true, but in their small farm only devastation and suffering were present. The glory John had conquered for their country was not worth the price for Mother, and even as the newspapers celebrated General Grant, she would always talk of him as a butcher. It was good fortune, then, that his Kentucky regiment had been assigned to General Thomas. He said so, but that did nothing to soothe Mother’s pain. “I shall return from the field of battle”, he promised, “I wish this cruel war was over and I could remain here with you Mother. But my first duty is my country, and all Union men must fight.”
“I can’t lose you, my James”, she replied. “The Union has enough soldier boys. I only have you.” A knot formed in James throat, and he swallowed it with some effort. He pressed Mother closer to his chest, and kissed her forehead. “Mother, think of the pain we suffered when John was taken to the Almighty’s side. Thousands of women have lost their sons by the terrible hand of war during these two years. Down south, the rebels are right now murdering boys and Union men. I fight to end the war, to end the suffering. I fight, because I want no mother to feel as you have felt.” He left then, going to the nearest recruitment post and signing to fight. His green regiment was afterwards rushed into the heart of Kentucky when news came that the rebels had invaded their state.
He remembered the march, how he clutched his rifle against his heart to stop its painful palpitations. The rebels might have passed through their small farm. He knew of their cruelty, but James hoped, wanted to hope that they would spare an ancient lady. Yet he had heard of the dreadful crimes they committed in Kansas and Missouri, where neither sex nor age were any protection. Mother could neither read nor write, so any news that came were through the kind help of their neighbor. That, understandably, meant that they could not exchange letters often. James was only able to breathe freely when a letter arrived, saying that thanks to mighty God the rebels had taken another route, and so, she was spared of their cruel hand.
James had seen that cruelty in person, when he was trained next to a contraband camp. It was his first time seeing negroes up close. Father had hated them, because he couldn’t buy any and had to work the soil himself. Such education endowed James with prejudices that were hard to get rid of, but a contrabands’ teacher thought he ought to do so. “Think of your mother’s pain when your brother died”, the pasty-faced Yankee would say, “think of the pain of thousands of mothers who have lost their sons.” James just nodded, while chewing his hardtack. “Millions of Negro mothers have lost their sons, their daughters, their husbands, to slavery’s cruel designs, which have gone on for much longer than this war. The triumph of the national cause will not only stop the suffering of Northern women, but of the colored woman as well.”
Seeing the contrabands chipped away at James’ prejudices, very slowly. There was this little Negro girl who would carry dirty laundry around, helping her mother. When she was not doing that, she would learn her letters with the Yankee teacher. Once she came to him, and James saw the scars in her little shoulders. To think that such a little girl could be whipped! A few weeks later, news came that the rebels had raided the contraband camp. His company was sent there, and he observed the desolation. Mangled corpses were strewn everywhere, and the camp was covered with the smell of death and blood. Many negroes were sobbing, crying for a friend who was taken or a lover who was murdered. The woman who washed the clothes was crying desperately, howling for her daughter. The little girl, the Yankee teacher said later, had had her heart pierced by a marauder. The sobs of the mother reminded James so much of his own mother, how she suffered when John fell. That night, James wept for Mother, for John, for the Negro mother, for her little girl, for the war.
The next day, the bugle of war sounded forth, and James and his regiment marched to Lexington, where the rebels had made camp. The sad refrain, “who will care for mother now?” still echoed in his head. General Thomas hit the secesh with the force of a sledgehammer, and the rebels broke, the Union achieving a glorious victory. James learned this from the newspapers later. The actual battle was not glorious to him, as he and his comrades advanced grimly to the rebel lines. They saw the Confederate flag, and then heard that chilling scream. He and the others went forward. It seemed to James that he was possessed, for he could not control himself as he charged forward, howling with both rage and fear. But then, a bullet grazed his leg and he fell.
Suddenly everything came into focus, and he could hear nothing but screams and the bullets flying. A terrible fear seized him, and he could not stand up anymore. He tried to breathe slowly to calm himself, but then a shell exploded just a few feet aside. James could not support it anymore. He buried his face in his arms and asked God to have mercy and Mother to forgive him. At least he could see John now. Pressed against the cold snow, which was turning pink with the blood of the fallen, James lost consciousness, wondering whether this was death, and who would care for mother now.
A few minutes, or perhaps a few hours later, he woke up. The terrible sounds of battle continued, but now they came from afar. James raised his head, and saw the Stars and Stripes flying in the rebel position. They had won. The thud of boots in snow, however, told him that the battle continued. James looked around, to the many bodies resting in the snow. Who would care for their mothers now? It was in that moment that he remembered his melodramatic words, his florid declarations of patriotism and duty, and decided that they were not worth a damn if he never saw Mother again. He stood up, and clutching the rifle to his chest, he ran away and didn’t stop until he could no longer hear the bullets whistling. Only then he allowed himself to fall on the cold ground, now not a proud soldier, but a cowardly deserter.
He at least knew where the south was, so he started the march home. Another straggler joined him. It was a fellow Kentuckian, who also wanted to go home. Now that they had “seen the elephant”, neither wanted to take any part on the war. A woman was kind enough to offer them some cornbread, and that would have to do for some days more. But, of course, their luck ran out, and as they walked through a thick forest, they heard the hooves of horses. At first, they thought it was the military police, come to arrest and execute them as deserters. But it was worse: it was the rebels. In panic, he and his new comrade fled in opposite directions. They had heard what these guerrillas did to Union stragglers. James was able to hide; the other man was not so lucky.
“I’ve caught a traitor!”, one of the marauders said. “I know him, he is a Kentuckian.” Then he leaned forward, the bloodlust evident in his eyes. “So you wanted to fight for niggers, eh boy? Then die like one.” James bit into his muddy jacket to stop himself from making any noise as his comrade cried and begged. One of the guerrillas took out a length of rope, which they tied to a sturdy tree branch. They put the noose around the neck of their victim, and relished pulling on the rope, lifting him high in the sky before letting him go. Finally, they tired of this cruel game and pierced his heart with a bayonet. The man was braver and nobler than James could ever be, for he never revealed where James was hiding. Only when the raiders left and the sound of horses faded into the distance did James exit his hiding place. He observed the corpse of his comrade, still hanging from that branch and covered in blood and cuts. A little message saying that any Black Republican would be thus dealt with was pinned to his feet.
James continued his march. He stumbled into a house in a sorry state of disrepair, weeds covering what once might have been a pretty little garden. He resolved to beg for some food from the owner of the house, for he was desperate. So he opened the door and was met with the screech of a woman, who cowered from his presence. “Get away Yankee, get away! I’ve gots nothing to give you!” James put his palms forward, to show her he intended no harm. “I just want some food.” His voice and accent, far from calming her, just enraged her. “Traitor! Traitor!”, she cried. How could she say that? She, a secesh woman, accusing him of treason? “You have given your home to the Black Republicans! You have betrayed Kentucky and joined them damn Yankees”, she answered coldly.
“This was is your own fault”, James replied. “If you hadn’t tried to break the government we wouldn’t be here. Lay down your arms, traitors, and we’ll go home.” “Why can’t you go home now?”, the woman shrieked. “You can just turn back and will lose nothing. We risk everything.” James turned back somberly. “This place, ma’am, it’s my home too. You rebels have devastated it with your attacks, and have murdered scores of our people. You have left us no option. I won’t turn back until the rebellion is crushed.” He glanced back when he heard her quiet sobs. “You Yankees already took my husband and my son. Hanged him like a criminal. What more do you want?” James did not answer, and just went back to the door. Stopping there, he turned back and said in a low voice “I think this war has taken something from all of us.” She did not speak again. James left the house, and though his heart still ached for home and for Mother, he turned north, intending to rejoin his regiment. The war would continue, and he would still fight.
"Soldier, what on Earth possessed you to return here, knowing that you could face charges of desertion and cowardice?"
"I met my neighbours."
"Ah. I see. Dismissed."
But for real, James and his mother deserve the best.
"I met my neighbours."
"Ah. I see. Dismissed."
But for real, James and his mother deserve the best.
I think he could still be assassinated.
If nothing else.
Holy s**t this is good it needs a thread mark. Its also one of the saddest things I've read in the past year.
Last edited:
Well, I was pretty sure that some commanders offered pardons to deserters who returned voluntarily, but I can't find the reference now. Perhaps I'm misremebering? I was pretty sure both Hooker and McClellan allowed them to come back. Besides, I'm imagining that James' home would be near Lexington, and since he did go into battle he would count as a straggler who went missing for a couple of days until he found his way back to the regiment. In the worst case scenario, let's just say he joins another regiment under a different name.
Edit: I found it! From Battle Cry of Freedom, Hooker offered amnesty to any AWOL who came back voluntarily after he took over the Army of the Potomac IOTL. Thomas, ITTL, offered it as well after many of the green troops he brought into battle went AWOL. That would include James in this story.
It's an ever present risk, but I will have Lincoln live.
I'm glad you liked it. It's difficult to imagine just how horrible war would be if viewed from the pov of dry statistic and analysis. Behind every soldier there are stories like this.
Last edited:
I recently rewatched Peter Jackson's They Shall Not Grow Old, and it struck me again how the ex-servicemen found that they just couldn't communicate to the 'civvies', even their own families, what they had gone through; Most people seemed to just want to forget the war even happened or had absolutely no interest in it, and even those willing to get into a conversation about it completely failed to understand the nature of it and the scale of the horror that the soldiers went through. They felt isolated, finding that they could only find people who would understand by talking to other veterans. IIRC, there was even something of a lull in the collective conversation for the first decade or so after World War II, a much more recognisably just conflict. There was little to no understanding of trauma; "You didn't die, you didn't even get wounded, so why are you complaining?"
There are exacerbating factors potentially awaiting for veterans of both sides; Union troops will tend to be from areas that never saw any fighting so their civilian neighbours won't understand the butchery, while Confederates will be on the losing side, and so could potentially face accusations of cowardice from civilians Southerners who would blame them for their defeat. And with how much the fighting will degenerate, it's not like they'll even be in the mood to seek condolence with each other. The social isolation of traumatised Union veterans might even be the initial binding agent for many platonic and even romantic relationships between them and of freed slaves postwar - former slaves are really the only people they'll be able to meet who'd understand what it's like to experience such terror and threat of injury or death over such long periods of time.