The private history of a campaign that failed. The Private History of a Campaign That Failed (1981) 2022-11-04
The private history of a campaign that failed Rating:
The private history of a campaign that failed is a story of disappointment, frustration, and, perhaps most of all, lessons learned. It is a tale of a group of individuals who were united in their belief in a cause, but ultimately came up short in their efforts to bring about change.
The campaign in question was one that was dear to my heart and to the hearts of those involved. It was a grassroots effort to bring about policy changes in our local government, aimed at improving the lives of our community members.
We began with a small group of dedicated volunteers, united in our belief that we could make a difference. We were passionate about our cause and were determined to do whatever it took to see it through to fruition.
As we worked to gain support and build momentum for our campaign, we encountered a number of challenges. One of the biggest was a lack of resources. With no budget to speak of, we were forced to rely on the generosity of others to help fund our efforts. This meant that we had to be creative in how we got our message out, using social media and other free resources to reach as many people as possible.
Despite these challenges, we remained committed to our cause and continued to push forward. We organized rallies and events, reached out to local media outlets, and even tried to engage with decision-makers directly.
Unfortunately, despite our best efforts, our campaign ultimately fell short. The policy changes we were seeking did not come to pass, and we were left feeling deflated and disheartened.
But even in failure, there are lessons to be learned. The experience of being part of a campaign that failed taught me the importance of persistence and resilience. It also gave me a newfound appreciation for the challenges that come with grassroots organizing, and the need to be resourceful and adaptable in the face of adversity.
Looking back on the private history of this campaign, I am proud of the work we did and the effort we put in. While the outcome was not what we had hoped for, I believe that the experience has made me a better advocate for change and has strengthened my resolve to continue fighting for the causes I believe in.
Mark Twain’s Civil War: “The Private History of a Campaign That Failed.” Edited by Benjamin Griffin
Afterward everything was smooth for a while then trouble broke out between the corporal and the sergeant, each claiming to rank the other. Stevens's horse would carry him, when he was not noticing, under the huge excrescences which for on the trunks of oak trees and wipe him out of the saddle this way. But that could not be kept up. There were scores of little camps scattered over missouri where the same thing was happening. I came within a few hours of seeing him when he was as unknown as I was myself; at a time when anybody could have said, "Grant--Ulysses S Grant? On our left, half a mile away, were Mason's farm and house, and he was a friend to the cause.
This looked decidedly serious. He was one of the most upright men I ever knew but he repudiated that note without hesitation because I was a rebel and the son of a man who owned slaves. My mate retorted that a mere impulse was nothing, anyone could pretend to a good impulse, and went on decrying my Unionism and libelling my ancestry. Night shut down black and threatening. It was after dark by this time and as we could not know how soon the enemy might arrive, it did not seem best to try to take the horses and things with us, so we only took the guns and ammunition, and started at once. We had flanked the farmhouse.
The Private History of a Campaign That Failed (1981)
The result was a sharp stir among us and general consternation. The expedition had become a holiday frolic once more. Fuqua, a member of our company, that the horse was his, that the tying him at the door was a mere matter of forgetfulness and that to attribute it to intelligent invention was to give him quite too much credit. He said I came of bad stock, of a father who had been willing to set slaves free. The thought of hi got to preying on me every night, I could not get rid of it. The men clearly knew nothing of the tremendous gravity of real war, battle and the grim realities of death.
In Twain’s “the private history of a campaign that failed,” smith, the blacksmith’s apprentice, is given “ultimate credit” for
The loom and style of his comrades suggested that they had not come into the war to play and their deeds made good the conjecture later. Our militia company were not learned and the explanation confused them, so they called him Peterson Dunlap. As for myself, I was full of unreasoning joy to be done with turning out of bed at midnight and four in the morning, for a while grateful to have a change, new scenes, new occupations, a new interest. The governor, Calib Jackson, issued his proclamation calling out fifty thousand militia to repel the invader. It was raining heavily. They were mainly young and frisky and nobody in the command could stay on them long at a time, for we were town boys and ignorant of horsemanship.
Against a diseased imagination, demonstration goes for nothing. Farmer Mason was in a flurry this time himself. We were together in New Orleans the 26th of January, when Louisiana went out of the Union. There was no war to mar it. We never tried to establish a watch at night again, as far as I remember, but we generally kept a picket out in the daytime. This vast donkey had some pluck, of a slow and sluggish nature, but a soft heart.
The Private History of a Campaign That Failed (TV Movie 1981)
Rather there is the nobility of fighting for a cause and the truth of injuries, casualties and mortality never dampen the illusion. And all the boys seemed to be feeling the same way; they hung over him, full of pitying interest, and tried all they could to help him, and said all sorts of regretful things. There was not a sound, not the whisper of a leaf; just the perfect stillness, an uncanny kind of stillness which was all the more uncanny on account of the damp, earthy, late night smells now rising and pervading it. A death of this shameful sort had not occurred to us as being among the possibilities of war. I was down by him in a moment, helplessly stroking his forehead, and I would have given anything then, my own life freely, to make him again what he had been five minutes before.
Short Stories: The Private History of a Campaign that Failed by Mark Twain
As far as he was concerned, this military expedition of ours was simply a holiday. I will anticipate here sufficiently to say that we did learn to ride after some days' practice, but never well. An hour later we met General Harris on the road, with two or three people in his company, his staff probably, but we could not tell; none of them were in uniform; uniforms had not come into vogue among us yet. On our left, half a mile away, were Mason's farm and house, and he was a friend to the cause. However, with the song singing and yarn spinning around the campfire everything presently became serene again, and by and by we raked the corn down one level in one end of the crib and all went to bed on it, tying a horse to the door so he would neigh if anyone tried to get in. The loom and style of his comrades suggested that they had not come into the war to play and their deeds made good the conjecture later. The thought of hi got to preying on me every night, I could not get rid of it.
The Private History of a Campaign That Failed, Research Paper Example
Though Twain uses humor to convey his fictionalized memoir, the realities of life and death are forced upon the young men. We stacked our shabby old shotguns in Colonel Ralls's barn and then went in a body and breakfasted with that veteran of the mexican war. The mongrel child of philology named the night's refuge Camp Devastation and no soul objected. He was made orderly sergeant, Stevens was made corporal. Hannibal lies at the extreme south eastern corner of Marion County, on the Mississippi river. I did not see that brisk young general again until last year; he was wearing white hair and whiskers. On the contrary, it seemed a perfectly natural thing to do.