Heroes and Cowards

Lesley J. Gordon

When I began my research for Dread Danger: Cowardice and Combat in the American Civil War, my starting point was historian Bell I. Wiley. His works, dating from more than eighty years ago, offer some of the most detailed accounts of the soldier experience, not only in battle but in camp, on the march, and in prison. Wiley left very few topics untouched, and his archival research is still impressive. In The Life of Johnny Reb: The Common Soldier of the Confederacy, he devoted chapters to combat, camp life, uniforms, food, recreation, and religion, among others. Wiley acknowledged women cross-dressing, as well as Native Americans who served in the rebel army. In his chapter titled “Heroes and Cowards,” he observed: “Cowardice under fire, being a less gratifying subject than heroism, has not received much attention from those who have written or talked of the Confederate Army.”[i] Nevertheless, he did, making mention of the Second Texas Infantry at Shiloh, as well as other units, that were in his words, “playing the coward” in battle.[ii] Despite his attempts to demythologize Southern history—including an acknowledgment that Confederates fought to preserve slavery and deeply resented racial equality—he still fell prey to one of the Lost Cause’s main tenants: that rebel soldiers were superb warriors.

Indeed, when Wiley later turned to write about Union soldiers, he assessed Confederates as fighting “with more dash, elan and enthusiasm” than their Union counterparts.[iii] Still, he begrudgingly found himself admiring the Union soldier as “no less than the man he fought.”[iv]

In the decades since Wiley’s books were published, the study of Civil War soldiers has expanded expeditiously. We know much more about the socioeconomic profiles of both Confederate and Union soldiers—why they fought, what they believed, and how the war affected them. Excellent books have explored soldiers’ shifting attitudes about slavery and race, religion, and gender expectations. Yet, I would argue that, until relatively recently, historians have not moved very far from Wiley’s broad generalization that all Civil War soldiers were “admirable” and, in the end, effective fighters. Much more attention has been given to concepts of courage, with most scholars arguing that the few men or units that faltered in battle were not that significant or worthy of study.

It may well be that writing about cowards in combat is not very gratifying. But that is not what motivated me to write my book. Like Wiley, I wanted to delve deep into the sources to unearth firsthand accounts of soldiers in combat. But unlike him, I sought to better understand the short- and long-term repercussions of cowardice in combat. What happened to units like the Second Texas accused of such shameful allegations? How did they cope? How did they make sense of their failings? And why and how do we tend to forget the coward and remember the hero. By restoring this overlooked aspect of soldiering, we can gain a richer, more nuanced understanding of war.

[i] Bell I. Wiley, The Life of Johnny Reb: The Common Soldier of the Confederacy (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1943), 83.

[ii] Wiley, Johnny Reb, 84.

[iii] Bell I. Wiley, The Life of Billy Yank: The Common Soldier of the Union (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1952), 361.

[iv] Wiley, Billy Yank, 13.