War! Yes! Like most children of modern privilege, I’ve always had a naive fascination with war and, even more so, her heroes. Yes, those rugged men who were men, and weren’t afraid to let the blood and beards flow unabated. If you’re anything like me, then you probably lose hours gazing upon photographs of handsome American Civil War generals. It is to our everlasting favour that cameras were invented in time to capture their perfectly pilose faces, so that we may admire their limitless appeal, and experience the fevers and fancies they conjure. Oh my. Without further ado, and with much restraint, here are three Civil War generals I would have been eager to “cross swords” with.
General Ulysses S. Grant
Ah, Ulysses S. Grant, the benevolent war walrus. This mass of a man led the Union Army to major victories at Shiloh and Vicksburg, but, more importantly, also disrobed upon returning home from those battles. Alas, the history books are curiously silent on just how Gen. Grant peeled away the soiled layers of his uniform, loosening his sinuous waves of musk. Moreover, we know nothing of the manner in which the good General laid his supine mounds of Whitman-esque masculinity onto the soft satin of his bed sheets.
In the absence of such accounts, I often imagine myself as the General’s humble wife, Julia Dent Grant, lying prostrate beside his husky frame. In these reveries, I draw close to him, heart throbbing deep within my heaving bosom. I rest my weary head upon the rolling billows of his beard. I burrow my face deep within, I dust my crimson cheeks thoroughly with his heavy dander.
General James Earl Brown Stuart
Jeb Stuart was a man of stock and taste, the most cavalier of all Civil War generals. He also fought for the belligerent South and, as such, exudes considerable “bad boy” appeal. Yes, “Beauty,” as he was known, likely would have inspired even the most progressive amongst us to slaughter any number of anti-slavery abolitionists just to secure a fleeting moment of his rough favour.
It is clear to me that Gen. Stuart solicited erotic congress with the kind of pure, hot eagerness that shames lesser men. Indeed, he rocked a cape, peacock feathers, a mustard sash, a red flower upon his lapel and a grin that tells us he was slaying all the birds and boys in town. Contemporary Civil War historians probably dream endlessly of flying a DeLorean back in time and into Stuart’s arms. I imagine their research interests focus primarily on the shimmering grandeur of his facial hair. How was such an immense and untamed entity captured by such primitive photography? It must have been like trying to cage a tiger, or grasp a rainbow with your outstretched hand.
General William Tecumseh Sherman
Military strategists consider Gen. Sherman to be father of “Scorched Earth” warfare, which was probably just the result of his blazing hotness. Of all Civil War generals, it is likely Sherman who littered the landscape with as many broken hearts as broken bodies. Indeed, he knew precisely how to adopt a baronial posture, gaze outwardly with stoicism, and convey the parsimony of his affection.
Contemporary historians probably still have many unanswered questions about the enigmatic Gen. Sherman. For instance, did he ever extend his erotic enterprise to the lower rungs of the social order? Did he ever allow his sinewy frame to slip into vulgar servility, to be debased by mendicants and commoners, to be blotted by oily fingers? Did the General ever prowl the darkened corners of the barracks post-battle, still drunk on bloodshed, searching out some trembling peon corrupt enough to massage his robust flanks and quivering thighs? Did they mutually observe the scarred flesh move like pond ripples, cresting and breaking over sharp intakes of voiceless felicity? Oh, knowing the answers to these questions would mean nothing less than a million dreams affirmed, or destroyed.
