Beware the Unassuming Characters: A Quiet Hobbit and Language Professor Dominate in War

By Chase Spears

What do you mean the barrel scene from Peter Jackson’s film adaptation of The Hobbit isn’t anything like what’s portrayed in the book? This was one of many points of entertaining conversation between me and Lori during our evening walks as I read through Tolkien’s 1937 adventure, along with the Kansas City Tolkien Society over the last few months. Though a longtime fan of Tolkien’s works conveyed through film, I’m still cutting my teeth as a newbie when it comes to taking in his actual writing.

I’m learning much about middle earth, now in my middle age. But the thing stands out in grandest fashion is the development of Bilbo Baggins as a strategic character in the plot. If put into a lineup with those who more looked the part of soldier, few would likely pick him to fill the role of stealthy warrior on a quest with infinitesimal odds of success or even survivability. Yet he was the essential man for the task.

In my office hangs a painting by John Paul Strain titled ‘Soul of a Lion.’ It depicts Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain leading his men in a downward charge from a hill known as little round top in Gettysburg on the second of July, 1863. Chamberlain’s men had run out of ammunition against a repeated onslaught of Confederate forces attempting to take the high ground. There were two choices left: retreat or sprint toward almost certain death. Chamberlain gave the order to affix bayonets, then personally led his men down the hill to face the enemy at arms’ length. The rest is history. This group of men from Maine held the union’s flank and changed the course of the four-day battle. There are many stories of superhuman bravery in wars across the centuries. So why does this moment so fascinate me? For the same reason I am endeared to Bilbo. Neither he nor Joshua Chamberlain were men you would have picked as winning warfighters before the moment demanded.

I served in the U.S. Army for 20 years as a public affairs officer. In it, there’s a culture that exalts the so-called ‘meat eaters,’ and turns nose down at the ‘leaf eaters.’ Those in the combat arms, such as infantry, artillery, combat aviation and the like are the ‘meat eaters,’ not that the girth of all of them would attest. You can probably imagine where the public affairs field in which I served falls along that spectrum. Today’s Army would have looked at Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain as a ‘leaf eater.’ He was a professor of the liberal arts at Bowdoin College in Maine when the Civil War commenced. Chamberlain took a leave of absence under the pretense of going on sabbatical to Europe for language study. In reality, he left with the sole purpose of enlisting into the Army to join the fight. The man had a way with the human heart, revitalized a unit with desertion-level morale and became one of the most effective generals under Lincoln’s command. Yet despite his fierce use of combat power on fields of battle, Chamberlain was magnanimous in victory. When General Robert E. Lee’s forces marched into Appomattox for surrender two years later, the professor from Maine ordered his men to salute those who had the day before been foe. He was among the first to demonstrate that defeated Americans were yet Americans worthy of respect. Chamberlain’s ability to wield compassion with the same voraciousness that he brandished the sword made him dear to me for the past two decades, even as I wrestle with the contradictory arguments used to justify the bloodiest conflict in American history. This seemingly paradoxical trait is reflected in Bilbo’s character as well.

Both men of books, I imagine Baggins and Chamberlain would have found camaraderie in relationship. Baggins was enjoying life in the shire, when his peace and quiet was interrupted by one dwarf after another showing up uninvited. Chamberlain was enjoying life as a scholar and teacher until the war interrupted routine across the republic that was just entering the age of a senior citizen. The communities surrounding both men never expected that they would leave comfort for combat. To the casual observer, neither would have been perceived to posses greatness within. Yet both proved essential to the moment and task. Without Bilbo, Thorin’s journey to the mountain was doomed. Without Chamberlain, the union’s encounter with Robert E. Lee’s forces was very likely a defeat. Both returned home from their respective quests as changed men. “Gandalf looked at him. ‘My dear Bilbo!’ he said. ‘Something is the matter with you! You are not the hobbit that you were.’”¹ One can imagine the same being said by our famed wizard had he encountered the man who insisted on being addressed as General Chamberlain for the rest of his life, preferring the identity of a soldier over more exclusive honorifics earned in the course of his extraordinary life.

Two so-called ‘leaf eaters’ proved essential among the ‘meat eaters’ that gamblers would more likely wager on. I mentioned Chamberlain to my division commander, then Maj. Gen. Michael Shields, one day in 2015 as we waited to board a flight in Seattle. His response (perhaps with slight tweaking) could slide easily into the concluding pages of The Hobbit. “It’s all fun and games until a college professor from Maine shows up and kicks your ass.” Tolkien would probably say the same for a hobbit or two. Thus I raise my glass, and offer a hearty toast to the lion-hearted leaf eaters past, present, and future.

Chase Spears served as a U.S. Army public affairs officer for 20 years and is host of the Finding Your Spine podcast. Among other pursuits, he enjoys writing about courage, civil-military relations, communication ethics, and policy. Chase holds a Ph.D. in leadership communication from Kansas State University, where his research focused on the political realities of military norms and actions. You can connect with more of his work at chasespears.com.

1. J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit (Boston, Houghton-Mifflin, 1994), 270.