Dr. Timothy Draper
I have always thought that anecdotally many historians—especially male historians—first became fascinated with the study of the past through military history. From kings to knights, presidents to generals, the battlefield with the pageantry of glory and honor seemed perfect for tales of heroism and gallantry. A peculiar thing happened, however, about half a century ago; military history fell into serious decline as an academic subdiscipline. I will not say it fell into disfavor, but military history—along with political, intellectual, and diplomatic history—lost much of its scholarly audience to the onslaught of social and cultural history, which dominated the discipline from the 1970s into the early twenty-first century. Much of this decline, at least for military history, related to the events of the Vietnam War era and the problematic nature of military life during that period.
Today, we live in a different era, with the events of 911 and two successive long-term wars in the Middle East refurbishing the image of the Armed Forces and resurrecting the reverence of veterans as key contributors to a successful civil society. As a historian of the recent American past, I find this transformation of the public’s view of the military and military personnel particularly engaging. For the broader public, however, the significant changes in military historiography are not evident. However, these are important transitions since they have socio-cultural implications that touch on policy issues. The new military history considers group think and the dynamics of camaraderie, warfare and the nature of masculinity, transgender and military service, the politics of veterans’ care, public commemoration of warfare and military service, among other intriguing topics.
As the son of a World War II field artillery soldier and a Cold War era paratrooper, I find this type of military history far more useful than the iconic tales of plumed knights and swashbuckling sailors, for I believe the new military history really evokes the intimate and personal nature of military service. When surveying the tales of veterans, what has always impressed me are the themes of commitment, responsibility, friendship, sacrifice, duty, teamwork, and even fear. Veterans—at least the many I have met and listened to—seem to recall more the comrades and collaborative efforts that make even the worst of times bearable. Military service offers perhaps one of the greatest challenges to the human spirit, and it seems that the reward for most are not pennants, parades, nor medals but the community that historian Stephen Ambrose once called “a Band of Brothers” and (I will add) Sisters.
I was particularly reminded of this final sentiment when finishing a biography of William T. Sherman. At his funeral in 1891, his former Confederate opponent Joseph Johnston attended, refusing to wear a hat in a freezing rain despite his eighty-four years of age. When asked why, Johnston remarked, “If I were in his place, and he were standing in mind, he would not put on his hat.” For me no monument could so honor a veteran, than those simple word of friendship.
