Most the men who fought for both sides who brave men who honorably did what their conscience told them. But both sides had their bad element. And both bad elements tended to make themselves scarce when real fighting was to be done.
My mom's side of the family was from Georgia, Texas, Kentucky, and West Virginia. The Georgians and Texans fought for the South, while the Kentuckians and West Virginians (except for one rather humorous exception) fought for the North.
My dad's family was still back in Germany and Russia talking about those crazy Americans fighting each other.
The humorous exception on my mom's side was my great-great-great-grandfather, William Wallace Campbell, a giant of a man who stood six feet ten inches tall and weighed around four hundred pounds. He attempted to join the Union Army alongside his brothers and cousins, but the recruiting officer told him that he'd just be shot in his first engagement, so he spent the war carrying mail back and forth between the lines. In early 1863, Confederate General John Hunt Morgan and his troopers confiscated his horse (part-Morgan, part-draft horse)for "The Cause" and gave him a mule in its place.