A visit to a Civil War battlefield accents the tragedy and irony of war.

My great uncle John Meyer migrated from Germany to the United States in 1857 and settled at Newton, Iowa, shortly before the War Between the States. On August 2, 1862, he answered Abraham Lincoln's call for volunteers, and at age 25 enlisted in the 22nd Iowa infantry. He participated in the horrendous siege of Vicksburg from May 22 to July 4, 1863, when the Confederates surrendered to General Grant. Thereafter, his regiment moved eastward toward Atlanta, engaging in three minor battles on the way. Atlanta fell to Gen. Sherman's attack, and on November 15, they set fire to the city and began the famous march to the sea.

I retraced the route a few years ago, and I would consider walk a better term as the area is mostly swamp, brush, and small trees with no roads. A march would be out of the question. When the war ended in 1865, my great uncle was discharged at Savannah on July 25th and returned to Newton, where he raised 12 children and lived until February 1906. The epitaph on his tombstone reads: "Sergeant John Meyer, No greater soldier ever carried a musket."

One hundred years after the end of the Civil War, I stood in the center of the battlefield at Murfreesboro, Tennessee, one of the bloodiest battles of the conflict. The Confederates commanded by Gen. Bragg were entrenched on the south bank of the Stone River. The Union soldiers under General Rosecrans attempted to wade the river and were mercilessly cut down by rifle fire with a loss of 9,511 men. Confederates lost 9,236. In two days of fighting, as Abraham Lincoln stated, 18,747 boys gave their last full measure of devotion.

I walked a short distance to the burial ground, and it appears an effort was made to separate Union and Confederate graves. But without identifying uniforms, it was impossible in some cases to determine for which cause a man gave his life. Many former opponents were buried together in mass graves, as markers indicate.

Where possible, headstones give each soldier's name, and, in addition, a good number also bear the Masonic emblem. On both Northern and Southern graves, some graves only bear the Square and Compasses, confirming that while enemies on the battlefield they were Brothers in the grave. Each died with a mission. Each envisioned a just cause viewed from a different perspective. This brings to mind a line which reads: "These in the robings of glory and those in the gloom of defeat/All in the battle blood gory in the dust of eternity meet."

As they faced across the Stone River that fateful day, they were Brother Masons and Americans, one, inseparable, in life and in death. They believed in the Brotherhood of Man under the Fatherhood of God. They believed in the immortality of the soul. They believed in toleration, morality, and the rule of law. They believed in education without indoctrination. They believed in teaching youth the virtue of love of parents. They believed in the importance of education, courtesy, fellowship, and fidelity. They believed in patriotism, had reverence of the flag, and held an undying loyalty to the Constitution of their country.

That day, each, following a different flag, gave his live in the hope that his sacrifice would bring justice and brotherly love to America.

That day they were Masons.

That day they were Americans.

Lloyd E. Meyer became a Master Mason in Minnehaha Lodge No. 165 in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in 1955 and a Master of the Royal Secret in the Valley of Minneapolis in 1959. Brother Lloyd is now 102 years young.