Earlier today I wrote about General McChrystal, one kind of American general. The kind we don't want to honor.
This post isn’t about him. It’s about his polar opposite in American history: William Tecumseh Sherman.
Sherman wasn’t polished. He wasn’t popular. He wasn’t safe. But he was necessary. They said he was mad. He suffered a breakdown. He was relieved of command and dragged by the press.
And still, he returned to command, marched to the sea, and broke the Confederacy’s spine in half. Not for glory. Not for revenge. To end the war. To spare the country from dragging its own death out any longer. A level of commitment to violence McChrystal can't even fathom.
When they begged him to run for president, he didn’t hesitate. “I will not accept if nominated, and will not serve if elected.” Imagine that. A general who saved the Republic, and walked away from power.
He called himself a philosopher more than a warrior. But when war came, he fought like a man who knew cruelty was mercy.... when it kept the next generation from ever seeing it again.
He was loyal to Grant. Hated politics. Hated fame. And when others played at heroism, Sherman did the awful, sacred work that ended the war.
He broke, but came back harder.
He bled without wounds, and kept marching.
He was hated in his time, and immortal ever since.
Sherman wouldn’t survive in today’s Army. He’d fail the board. Too blunt. Too intense. Too honest. But the Army only survived because it once belonged to men like him.
He’s not here to see the Army’s 250th. McChrystal is. So let me remind the institution:
You were not built by safe men.
You were not saved by smooth talkers.
You were carried through hell by men like Sherman.
And if you forget that, you don’t deserve another 250. Honor the fire. Honor the pain. Honor the man who didn’t seek praise, only peace.
Sherman didn’t want your applause. He wanted the war to end in victory. And he made damn sure it did. Which is more than we can say for McChrystal.