How William McKinley Seized the Colors at Cold Harbor

Nov 17 , 2025

How William McKinley Seized the Colors at Cold Harbor

William McKinley stood in the choking smoke of Cold Harbor, his face smeared with grime and sweat, the world narrowed to the crack of rifles and the cries of fallen men. Amid the blood-soaked churn of July 1864, he seized a flag torn and mangled. The enemy’s fire raked the air, but McKinley gripped that banner like his life depended on it—because it did. That flag was more than cloth; it was defiance, hope, the soul of his regiment.

The Quiet Forge of Character

McKinley wasn’t born to glory or guns. Raised in a modest Ohio town, his life was formed in church pews and hard labor, where faith and grit walked hand in hand. His parents instilled a fierce sense of duty, grounded in scripture and sacrifice.

“Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.” — Matthew 5:9

The call to arms wasn’t just a summons of patriotism. For McKinley, it was a moral crusade — a fight for a fractured nation's soul. His faith didn’t shield him from fear, but it steeled him to press forward when most would break.

The Battle That Defined Him

Cold Harbor. June 3rd, 1864. The Union assault crumpled under Confederate fire. Men fell like wheat in the harvest—hopes drenched in blood. McKinley’s 57th Ohio Infantry faced hellhead-on.

It was during that brutal morning charge that McKinley’s courage snapped the chain of despair. When the regiment’s colors fell, shot from a dying hand, McKinley lunged forward. Under withering fire, he lifted the flag high. His gesture wasn’t a show; it was a lifeline to his comrades.

He rallied the regiment forward against impossible odds. The assault stalled, but his act ignited a stubborn spark of defiance. Medal of Honor citations recall his “gallantry in seizing the colors and leading the charge despite heavy enemy fire.”[1]

The toll was savage. McKinley bore scars deeper than flesh—loss of friends, the horror of war etched into his marrow. Yet that banner never touched the ground.

Recognition Carved in Blood

McKinley received the Medal of Honor in 1897, decades after that grim morning. The lag spoke not of neglect, but the slow reckoning of true heroism. His citation was brief but piercing:

“For gallantry in the charge of the regiment.”[1]

Comrades remembered him as a quiet warrior, a man whose valor was inseparable from humility.

Brevet Brigadier General [Joseph A. J.] Lightburn, who commanded the 57th Ohio, later noted:

“McKinley’s actions on the field inspired men beyond any order or command. He was the living embodiment of valor.”[2]

The medal was more than a decoration. It was an unspoken bond to every soldier who fought under that flag, every man who faced the abyss.

Legacy of Sacrifice and Redemption

William McKinley’s story isn’t just about one battle or one medal. It’s the pulse of every man who stood in the smoke and refused to let darkness win.

Courage isn’t the absence of fear—it’s the choice to act anyway. His scars tell that truth, raw and real. The flag he lifted at Cold Harbor waves still in the memory of those who know what that cost.

“He has delivered me from my enemies.” — Psalm 18:48

In a world starving for meaning, McKinley’s faith and sacrifice offer a timeless lesson: honorable service demands more than bravery—it demands purpose. To carry the banner forward, even when the way is bloody and unclear.

For those who wear the uniform now, McKinley’s story reminds us why we endure—the legacy we forge in pain is not for ourselves, but for the men beside us, and the nation still learning to heal.

Sources

1. Medal of Honor Citation, William McKinley, U.S. Army Center of Military History — Medal of Honor Recipients: Civil War (M–Z) 2. Lightburn, Joseph A. J., Memoirs of the 57th Ohio Infantry, 1900