The Hall of Heroes

Sometimes a fictiional story such as this one, can allow one to far away places, even into the past and future. Its called imagination!
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 History is not an absolute, but cause and effect: Change the cause and you alter the effect. What if a single decision or battle had went the other way? Perhaps an election had turned out differently! We as individuals are capable of altering the future course of history by our activism, or lack thereof. There are those who will maintain that a gradual process has been underway since the surrender of our Confederate Armies to reverse the conditions of our occupation, while others believe it will require drastic action.

However, regardless of one’s feelings it is apparent that under a free and independent Confederate States of America the heroes of our past will be respectfully honored. In any case, Confederate Fiction allows us to dream and envision victory; otherwise "where there is no vision, the people parish." {Proverbs 29:18}. Those who read the following story are free to call it fiction, a dream or else a vision, but having experienced these events, only the Almighty and myself know the difference. 

We had revisited Charleston after so many years since the fall of what we now record in our history as the Yankee Dynasty. Oh, the United States survived the fall alright, but it is much smaller now, and the paradox of it all is that their so-called union was reduced to thirteen States, the same number as when it began - almost as a reminder of their past arrogance and corruption. Now they have returned to the roots of their original republic, which indeed they certainly did with the liberation and years of restoration of the Confederacy and its glorious institutions.

The States that remained in the union regained their sovereignty just as much so as had the States in the Confederacy. All the doom and gloom predicted by their own mass media liberals never came to pass. The trucks and trains still roll onward: North, South, East, and West. However economically we all gained by the disbanding of the heavy bureaucracy 'those people' had constructed. The Southland now seemed almost as if the years under conquest, occupation, subjugation, and cultural cleansing had never occurred. Even our Confederate and Southern names have long since been restored to our cities, streets, parks, and monuments

The once influential organizations which caused so much disruption in society, the so called 'civil rights' groups, fell on hard times once the Southland was again a free and independent nation. Most States placed them in the very category they imposed on others: 'hate groups,' a name they have well earned! All the propaganda about how Negroes would be treated in an independent Confederacy also never happened. About 15 percent of the black population headed north or into the far west when our independence came and a large number have since returned. They found out things aren't so bad down south after all. One change our people insisted upon, the Confederate States Government, unlike that of the United States, has been forbidden from enumerating the population by race, or could they entering into the race question in any fashion. The individual States naturally regain and retain their sovereign right of choice in such matters.

How did it all begin? Well, that's another story, but for now: we were leaving Charleston, heading northwest toward Columbia. I recall this same route of travel during the hey day of the Confederate States nationalist movement, back when we were first organizing the Confederate Alliance, which eventually lead to our independence. Now there are absolutely no public schools and our children are all taught in private institutions the truths of our history, heritage, culture, as well as faith in the Almighty God of Heaven. I had always wanted to visit Charleston, somehow even when we held our meetings in that fair city we never really got to visit the various historic places.

Anyhow, I am glad we got to visit them now, at this time, and under conditions of a free Confederacy. We Southerners can more clearly face the past because we now have a future, and one of our own choosing. There seems to be a spirit in the air these days, as if our forefathers are looking down upon us and saying "well done." Even the nobility, splendor, and grace once present in Southern life have again returned to society in our reborn Confederate nation. The streams of tourist, which have arrived here from around the world, quite clearly notice it: It's just different.

As we passed beyond the view of Charleston, we had to make one more stop before Columbia, the site of the newly opened Hall of Heroes. In the distance we could see the sign pointing back off the highway to the right, and it couldn't be more then 15 miles out of Charleston. Even the sign really wasn't a sign, but a monument to Jefferson Davis looking toward the entrance, as if saying "stop by and take a look." The monument is so colossal, it is not likely to be missed, and its purpose all too obvious. We pulled off the highway into the entrance leading to the parking area. No automobiles were permitted on the actual site of the Hall of Heroes as an everlasting respect to the memory it commemorates.

Looking at the front gate, it was like nothing else one has ever seen. It was wide with a large pedestal on both sides, each pedestal measuring seven feet high, and having archangels mounted upon each, standing thirteen feet high. The angels each had one set of wings stretched inward toward each other, the space between their outstretched wings was said to be exactly seven feet. A series of quotations from the Holy Scripture had been beautifully carved into the pedestals upon which each angel stood. The booklet they give everyone at the Hall of Heroes indicated the size of the property to be in multiples of seven and thirteen. A solid wall marked the boundaries of the property on all sides, which was seven feet high. The wall, it is said, contains a pedestal every thirteen feet on center, whereon stands a cherubim about three feet high, and facing inward. Quotations from the Holy Scripture had been carved upon the pedestal below each of the cherubim.

As we approached the gate, well-dressed Confederate troops - equipped with the latest rifles, all highly polished - came to attention. The brochure said no one could enter except by the main gate, and pass these guards. It is said that tradition so much prevails here that deliveries must be reloaded from vehicles onto special made horse drawn wagons at the rear, wagons that are themselves like none you ever saw on earth, and drawn by the finest horse flesh available, specially groomed. We later saw these horses. They were large with shining coal-black coats. Horses well feed and cared for in the finest way. The rear of the building had no pillars, but rather a spotlessly kept platform. We weren't told the exact size of it, but given the size of everything else, it was likely in multiples of seven and thirteen.

The building itself had 26 huge columns along each side and thirteen across the front. But again, back at the gate as we approached, we were faced with the most magnificent sight I have ever seen. As we passed under the archangels with their outstretched wings we saw a wide polished walkway, appropriately similar and as wide as the entry gate, having thirteen large trees on each side as well. Between the trees evenly spaced in rows on each side, we saw thirteen large monuments in perfect ranks; twenty six in all: first a monument, then a tree, rotated in that order. The grass was manicured, thick, even, and lush; almost perfect like an expensive carpet.

The trees and monuments were well kept and stood opposite from one another as if in ranks. It was said these numbers represented the original thirteen Confederate States; two monuments and two trees standing in the stead of each. The images on the monuments faced each other across the expanse of the walkway, and lined up in alphabetical order, beginning with Alabama. The pedestals of these monuments were seven feet high and thirteen feet long. Again, quotations from the Holy Scriptures were carved upon their base, as well as a brief historical record. Atop the pedestals were mounted horsemen, perfectly carved with full accoutrements and ready for battle. They were all heroes of the Confederacy, two from each State.

We came to the foot of the steps, which numbered 26 in all, leading to the main entrance of the building. The steps were constructed in a series of thirteen steps then sort of a platform upon which there was a monument, then seven more steps, then a small platform, then six steps. Positioned n the middle of the first series of thirteen steps stood a huge mounted knight riding upon a steed. The horse reared up high upon its hind legs, and poised as if kicking in the breeze. The rider was dressed in a perfectly fitted suit of armor. In his left hand, outstretched was sword in the charging position, raised nearly skyward. The horse was obviously suited in armor, like unto the rider, wearing a breast plate in the front below his mane. Written in large Old English letters was the CSA motto, Deo Vindice.
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Even from our lowly position, we could see the sword to be one of a Confederate General. But what was unusual was that it was in his left hand, second, it being turned toward the right slightly so the wrist guard could be clearly seen, bearing the letters C.S.A.! The rider also carried a warrior’s shield in his right hand, which bore on it in full size a print of the Confederate Battle Flag. Between the upper two arms of the St. Andrews Cross was the Celtic Christian Cross, beautifully carved. We were told the statue exemplified our Lord Jesus taking command of the Confederate States Nationalist Movement.

Then we walked up the large stairs! As we did so, we saw huge standing statues of Confederate Heroes being thirteen feet high, placed between each of the huge columns on the three forward sides of the building: about 63 in all, having carvings at their base. I looked up on the front arch of the building and noticed the engraving of the twelve apostles with Jesus Christ in the middle at the last supper. The columns at the top of the steps were so large in diameter that it took two people with arms stretched around the outside in order to touch. They looked like marble, but we were told the material was better and more durable. I don't know what that may have been, but it definitely wasn't concrete. Clearly seen above us as we approached the top step, along the upper beam of the building, were in large letters "I am hath delivered thee." I would guess the building to be about twice the size of the Parthenon in Greece, maybe more.

We approached a set of double doors that were thirteen feet high and very massive, but seemed to be very well balanced, because they opened easily. The doors were carved inward and outward with the story of the deliverance of the Confederate People from occupation and subjugation. The scriptural verses from Ezekiel 37:1-10 was inscribed thereon, and in story form, likened our nation's story to the biblical account of the Valley of Dry Bones.

As we entered, we found ourselves in a large outer room faced with two massive pillars one on either side, about seven feet from the door and heavily carved with the story of the Southern People and of the Confederacy - images of heroic battles and heroes known to all of us. The decor about the ceilings were of angels and cherubim’s and between them they were large enough to be seen from the floor, carvings of the various State and regimental flags used during the War for Confederate Independence.

But all these things were minor when compared with what we beheld directly in front of us. The wall as we entered had upon it from ceiling to floor a scroll rolled out and carved in Old English the words "Scroll of Honor." Below were carved what appeared to be the beginning of an unfinished list of heroes. The wall and the scroll being so massive, all the heroes of the Confederacy would easily fit on a small portion, with most of the space to spare. But the names had obviously written so as to be seen from the floor. I couldn't help but notice, the first name on the list was "Sam Davis" hero of the Confederacy.

I ask the tour guide why Sam Davis was first, though I didn't question, in my view he certainly had earned that right. "Because," said the tour guide, "Sam defined for all time the word honor; performing a selfless deed, that rather than betray a friend, he would thus lay down his life, and happily, yet while being so young, with all of life lying before him." What is it made of, sir," I asked? "Polished bronze," came back the answer, with a recently invented coating to preserve it, as is, maintenance free. One could read the carving, both in imagery and in words, and would know the entire history of the Southern People and the Confederacy.

On each side of the huge bronze scroll was a set of double doors, not unlike those at the entrance, which lead to what was called the Great Hall of Heroes. The tour guide told us; "Beyond these doors, you will find heroism such as seldom recorded in the annals of human history." These doors also were heavily carved, and like the others were of the heaviest wood, almost like stone, yet they opened like a feather! The tour guide told us, it would take a large crane to pick up one of these doors, and to take one down and repair it would be a major piece of construction work.

I was about to enter the 'Great Hall of Heroes' when the voice of our Lord called unto me, instructing me not to enter into the great hall - that another shall enter in your stead. I departed, and while disappointed, still I had seen more than I had ever imagined possible to see in one lifetime. I did not question why our Lord denied me entrance beyond the doors in to the 'Great Hall of Heroes.' But as I passed out of the property, stopping at the great monuments and reading names like: Nathan Bedford Forrest, John Hunt Morgan, Albert Sidney Johnston, Robert L. Dabney, Robert E. Lee, Jefferson Davis, and on and on, down a seemingly endless list of names, I knew what it was all about! Not hero worship, far from it: It was the remembrance of the price of liberty, and the cost of not being vigilant.

On the way out of the main gate, we saw a sign, which was very plain in its design, given what all we had seen. It read, "Remember always, least ye forget and history repeats itself." As we got in the car, and drove off down the highway, we were all within our own thoughts at what we had beheld, and none of us could speak for sometime. "Least ye forget, I thought: Those words rang in my mind! Let us pray always that we be found worthy of the good graces and the Divine Providence of the Almighty God, who hath vindicated our just and honorable cause.

God save the Confederacy