Orginally aired on February 16, 1996 - In part 77 of our Civil War series, Virginia Tech history professor James Robertson tells us why a monument was dedicated to Confederate soldier Richard Kirkland. Kirkland was considered an “angel of mercy” on both sides of the conflict.
#77 – Sergeant Richard Kirkland (Angel of Mercy)
Thousands of Civil War monuments dot our land. At places like the major battlefields of that war, the metal and granite memorials are so numerous that all soon begin to look the same to a visitor. Yet one of those memorials stands in a singular class for uniqueness and drama. It is a major reason for anyone to visit the city of Fredericksburg. In addition, the monument itself is a testimonial to how close the states of the Union have since become.
In December, 1862, a large and lopsided battle occurred on the frozen plains of Fredericksburg. Wave after wave of Union soldiers assaulted Confederate lines that simply could not be broken. From a sunken road at the base of Marye’s Heights, massed Southerners levied a firepower that literally decimated one Federal attack after another.
Nineteen-year-old Richard Kirkland was one of those Confederate defenders. A farm boy from Flat Rock, South Carolina, Kirkland was a good soldier who had risen to sergeant in the 2nd South Carolina Infantry Regiment. However, on the day after the great battle, with hundreds of injured Union soldiers lying helplessly on the field and moaning for water, simple humanity inside Dick Kirkland overcame his sense of military duty.
He went to his brigade commander and asked permission to go out on the field and give water to the wounded soldiers.
“Kirkland,” the general exclaimed, “don’t you know you would get a bullet through your head the moment you stepped over the wall?”
“Yes, sir,” the young Carolinian answered, “I know that. But if you will let me, I am willing to try.”
The commander, touched by the request, nodded assent. Yet Kirkland was not permitted to show a white flag, lest the Federals think that the whole Confederate line was asking for an armistice.
So Dick Kirkland, loaded only with all the canteens he could carry, climbed out of the sunken road and onto the battlefield. He stood exposed to every sharpshooter in the Union Army of the Potomac. Not a gun was fired. Kirkland slowly made his way forward to the first line of wounded Federals. He knelt and, lifting the head of a shattered enemy, gave him a long drink of water.
Then, for an hour and a half that cold Sunday afternoon, Kirkland moved from soldier to soldier. He administered water and, if asked, uttered simple prayers. Several times he went back to his lines to refill canteens. Each time he returned, no gunfire broke the silence. Both sides knew his mission, and both sides watched with a mixture of astonishment and admiration. When Kirkland’s task was done and he climbed back over the stone wall for the last time, no cheers saluted is act. None were necessary.
The following autumn, Kirkland was one of 4,000 men killed at the battle of Chickamauga in Georgia; but his deed of charitableness at Fredericksburg continued to live in memory.
In 1965, as one of the climaxes to the observance of the 100th anniversary of the conflict, the Civil War centennial commissions of South Carolina, Virginia, and New Jersey joined together to fashion a memorial to Kirkland. The three state agencies solicited sculptor Felix DeWeldon, who had produced the famous Iwo Jima memorial for the Marine Corps, to craft a likeness of Kirkland at one of the instances in his errand of mercy that December afternoon many decades earlier.
The stone-and-bronze monument, dedicated in September, 1965, stands today in front of the sunken road on the Fredericksburg battlefield. It is an eternal tribute to a simple farm boy who became esteemed on both sides – and remains known today – as “The Angel of Marye’s Heights”.
