North Anna Battlefield Park is a small, relatively new park preserving some 80 acres of land at the heart of the May 1864 conflict. The park has one 2.25 mile out-and-back trail that is well maintained, well marked and is dotted with informative signage. When I was there, in late afternoon in May of 2010, the flagman who had to waive me through so that I wasn't smashed by heavy tri-axle trucks entering and exiting the adjacent gravel pit looked like he was startled to see a car coming up the access road, and when I pulled into the small parking area, my car was the only one there.
The neighboring gravel pit notwithstanding (the company donated the land for the battlefield park, a move I respect and appreciate), the short hike under the thick canopy of trees along a portion of the historic trace of Ox Ford Road was peaceful. Occasional rustles in the woods made me think I had jumped a deer, though later discussions with my deer hunting husband revealed that since it sounded like a tennis ball being rolled in the woods, all I had managed to accomplish was to startle a few squirrels from their perches.
After I spent some time at the outlook at Ox Ford, I walked back enjoying the solitude of my hike in the green filtered light and pondering the strategic brilliance of the position of Lee's lines. In the shape of a V, with the point on the North Anna at Ox Ford, Lee assured that if Grant were to attack him, Grant's front would have to be much longer than his own, and, should the need arise to shuffle troops from one side of the line to support the other, Lee's internal lines were much easier to support than Grant's whose troops would have to cross the North Anna twice to reinforce either end of the line.
But soon, I started to notice that now, late in the afternoon, the gravel pit had shut down for the day. The sun was sliding lower, and for a moment, I stopped, took a couple of deep breaths and just enjoyed the silence. What struck me then was the absolute peace that pervaded this space. Though I've never really thought much about it before, I have felt this peace at other battlefields. As my feet started to move slowly back to my car, I thought about this amazing irony.
Why is it that these places of terrible human carnage are now places of profound peace?
I don't believe in ghosts in the conventional sense--spirits trapped on earth and appearing in apparitions--but I do believe the spirits of the dead are able to watch us here on earth. And on that quiet walk it almost seemed like the peace of this place was a benediction for all of those souls who had lost their lives on this ground.
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