Making History

The story of President Jimmy Carter "began in Plains, Georgia, traveled the country and world and has come back full circle, back to his boyhood home." That's what the National Historic Site brochure suggested. And it was evident this morning at Maranatha Baptist Church as the 39th President conducted Bible Study class for about 175 church members and visitors.

In her autobiography First Lady from Plains, Rosalynn Carter described Inauguration Day 1977. She walked through the White House door and was met "by home-folks, Garden Club members," who had filled the White House with flowers, instead of by cabinet members and ambassadors. "They remind us who we really are, and though we face extraordinary responsibilities and will live a life we never ever dreamed of, we are first and always Rosalynn and Jimmy Carter from Plains, Georgia."

Secret Service personnel ushered the Carters into the sanctuary at 10:00 a.m. She sat behind us to our left with friends, and he took his place in front.

I thought, this was the most powerful man in the world and here we are four church pews away, listening to him chat with strangers. First impressions count. He was warm, gentle, funny and sincere.

"Where are ya'all from?" he questioned in a soft southern drawl.

"Connecticut," said Andy.

"I've lived there," he answered, grinning. We knew he had been stationed in the Groton-New London area when he served in the Navy and worked on submarines after graduation from Annapolis in 1946.

Then for the next 50 minutes he chatted about world events and the Old Testament story of the dissatisfaction of Hebrew people led by Moses, wandering in the wilderness for 40 years (the book of Numbers, chapter 11). "What was it they ate? Manna. How would you like to eat grits three times a day? Flavored with something like the sap from a pine tree?" He wrinkled his nose and the congregation chuckled and nodded. "Let's stop this for a moment and talk about leadership. As a leader, I became involved with the problems of the people, and there were lots of dissatisfied people."

He could have meant the Hebrew people, or those in the U.S. unhappy with their state in life when he was President, or both.
"The Bible calls them rabble. I'd call them soreheads."

Everyone laughed. We knew he put himself in the shoes of Moses and felt the pain and frustration. As school board member, some citizens labeled Carter an integrationist. As Georgia governor he set a progressive course, reorganizing state government, championing civil rights and waging war on crime and corruption.
As President he brought Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin and Egyptian President Anwar Sadat to Camp David to work out a peace agreement, and he spent his last hours as President negotiating the release of 52 American hostages in a crisis with Iran.

"But a good leader feels the pain of the people," said Carter, continuing with the lesson and obviously his own reflections. "When Georgia's people suffered, I suffered with them. "That's part of leadership." He continued the Bible Study lesson. "So Moses went to God and told it like it was. He didn't mince any words with God. He said, 'Hey, God, the people aren't happy with you.' I think the lesson here is that we should talk to God in an unvarnished way."
My mind jumped to a pamphlet I had read. This was the real Jimmy Carter. "His political calling card was his distance from the Washington establishment" and "his pledge to be truthful" in the post-Nixon, post-Watergate era. More than anything, this man who received the Nobel Prize for Peace in 2002 was honest to the core and down-to-earth.

When he and Rosalynn returned to Plains in 1981, they founded the Carter Center in Atlanta to advance human rights and alleviate human suffering, mediated peace agreements and cease fires in Haiti, Bosnia and North Korea, and began working with Habitat for Humanity to build houses for people around the world.

And in two days he will fly to Syria to broker peace in Egypt, I thought. What a lesson on a chilly Sunday in February.

After the church service we gathered in line with others outside. A church member snapped a picture of the three of us, President Carter's hand on my waist.

"Thank you, President Carter," said Andy. "Have a nice day."

"Thank you," he replied.

The morning was exactly as Miss Jan had said it would be in our introductory hour--car bomb checks, body checks, Secret Service rules and all. "President Carter is the only President to have lived in public housing," she had explained. "He's written more books than any other President. He's the only President to have written a novel, and he painted the picture used on the book jacket. He's the only president to have taught a Sunday School class while he was President and the only former President to teach Sunday School. You are definitely history," she had told us. And she was right.

After a quick change of clothes, we drove east from Americus to Andersonville. Ranger Terry led the guided tour of the infamous prisoner of war camp from the Civil War, where 52,345 Union soldiers passed through the gates and about 13,000 died. "Sadly, what happened at Andersonville is not unique," said Ranger Terry. "Prisoners in all the POW camps during the Civil War suffered the same inhumanity." Andersonville became the example of the ultimate horror of war because, of the eight major POW camps on both sides, the mortality rate here was highest at 29 percent.

Ranger Terry said, "If you ever lose your freedom and regain it, you will know what you lost. That is the lesson we want to teach here. To fully understand the loss is to cherish freedom all the more."

Only about 20 people lived in the town of Andersonville when the area was selected as the Confederate prisoner of war site. Afraid that the POWs at Richmond might be rescued by Union forces around Washington D.C., the Confederate leaders approved Andersonville--far from rescue, ready water supply and easy railroad access.

The tour included the stockade, built of 20-foot pine logs sunk five feet into the ground and so close together that prisoners couldn't even see campfires of the guards outside the walls; and the Deadline, a four-foot high inner rail about 19 feet inside the stockade wall that prisoners were forbidden to cross. Ranger Terry pointed out well holes dug for fresh drinking water; star-shaped earthworks and cannons to quell disturbances inside and guard against cavalry attacks outside; the hospital site, an almost certain death sentence; the Dead House site for bodies awaiting burial and numbering as many as 100 a day; and Providence Spring, fresh water that shot from the hillside after a thunderstorm in 1864.

He told us the history of Dorence Atwater, a prisoner who kept all the death records; Clara Barton, who worked for medical supplies, aid and care for the troops; and Captain Henry Wirz, who was hanged as a war criminal after commanding all prisoners at Andersonville. Ranger Terry commented, "Others accused of war crimes got off free. Did Wirz do it? Probably. Did he deserve to die? Maybe. Was he the scapegoat? The North probably needed or wanted a scapegoat. You decide for yourself."

No one questions that the confined soldiers suffered terribly from overcrowding (32,000 in an area intended for a maximum of 10,000), poor sanitation (one stream for all purposes), and inadequate food (about two handfuls of gruel a day).

After the tour we walked through the cemetery for an hour, looking for the one pointed stone of a Confederate soldier among the 18,000 interments; the six separated Union graves of The Raiders, hanged because they preyed upon the newcomer prisoners; and the state monuments, in tribute to the Civil War soldiers from each state who had died while prisoners of war at Andersonville.
At the National Prisoner of War Museum, an orientation film provided insight about the ordeal of being a POW. For an hour we looked at exhibits that presented and examined POW experiences throughout our nation's history. Ranger Terry was right. It made us think seriously about how much we had to lose and how much we take for granted.