Civil War for the day

Part Three of Errol Morris' blog in The New York Times about Amos Humiston:

There is something magical and sad about chronicling the history of a man who went more than halfway around the world on a whaling ship and then died (presumably alone) in a small town, a couple of hundred miles from his home. It is possible to chart Humiston’s movements from the moment he joined the 154th in Jamestown, New York to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania— a winding, circuitous, ant-like path that might have meaning but, then again, might not. And even if we could chart it completely, does it bring us closer to Amos Humiston? Does it capture the essence of the man? Even if we knew where he was every minute of his waking life? Would that tell us who he is?
There is also a stereogram of the place where he died. Does it make his death more real? Does it reconnect us with the event by showing us where it happened? By looking at a photograph of the fence on Stratton Street where Humiston was found— does it allow us to imaginatively reenact Humiston’s death? There was a full moon that night. But it was raining on and off through the three days of battle, and the sky was intermittently overcast. Can we imagine Humiston looking up through shifting clouds at the moon? And then at the ambrotype?
There is an endless fascination with last words, but what about last images? There is the legend of a last image being permanently imprinted on the retinas of those about to die. Here, the ambrotype reveals that last image. By looking at the faces of the Humiston children, we can see what Humiston was seeing as he died. Or perhaps they can provide a glimpse of what was in his mind. Does linking his experiences with ours allow us to better know him or only to imagine ourselves as him?

Rico says there's a lot more, and a lot more photos; go there and read the rest.