by Bryan Sherwood

Created on: February 19, 2010

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SHOOMF! 

“All right, that’s good!  You guys are done,” I said to the group assembled before me.  With a practiced hand, I bent toward my camera and swiftly began packing it away. 

“You heard Mr. Harrison, boys.  The picture’s been taken.  Head on back to your tents now, but meet back here in an hour for drills, hear? We’re marching out to Fredericksburg tomorrow, and we need to be prepared!” shouted Captain Crawford.

“Yes sir!” they called.  I watched blankly as the blue-clad group dissipated in various directions.

A strong hand clapped me on the shoulder, causing me to jump slightly.  “Thank you, Harrison.  I reckon 39th Massachusetts will want their photo taken as well, though I can’t say when,” said the captain.

“Alright,” I replied.  “Just give me a call when they’re ready.”  With a wave to Captain Crawford, I gathered my belongings and slowly walked back to my tent.  Once there, I carefully placed my camera in an old trunk.  I had been taking pictures for the Union army since the war started back in 1861.  It was now 1863, the third year of bloodshed.  The “American Civil War”, they called it, though to be honest, I could see nothing civil about it.

Many had claimed the war would bring peace, but that statement in itself dripped with stinging irony.  So many lives had been cut short, so many futures cheated, so many dreams shattered. 

I ran trembling fingers through my hair, and pulled out a worn black-and-white photograph.  I stared at the young man in the photo, as though willing the picture to come to life.

“Oh William,” I sighed.  “Your mother and I miss you more than you can ever imagine.”

Lost in my memories, I pulled out photos that I had taken over the years.

Memories.

That’s what the pictures were- memories of people and places, stolen images of life printed in ink.

I slowly flipped through the photos.  Somebody’s son.  Somebody’s husband.  Somebody’s father.  Somebody’s brother.  I stared at the pale faces of the soldiers before me, wondering what had happened to them.

Of course, there were never any pictures of black soldiers.  Film was saved for the white.  Although many blacks had been enlisted after Congress passed a law in 1862

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