Legend of the Gray

 Is it truly a legend or possibly a prophesy of things to come?
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001647572756

The ‘Legend of the Gray’ is told here exactly as it was passed on to me during the summer of 1992, while I was then making a living transporting what was termed ‘disadvantaged and disabled’ people.’ Oftentimes the job required me to drop off one or more people at a medical facility, then standby until the completion of their appointment, and return them to their home or to some other place. It was while sitting in the parking lot one day waiting for my passengers, the following legend was revealed.

After speaking to a gentleman indicating he was from Arkansas, then later noting that his license plates did indeed indicate he was from the Little Rock region, so I concluded he himself believed the story he told me, to be absolutely true. Time did not permit a more detailed questioning of the gentlemen, since he had to go his own way.

None-the-less, after a little checking on my own, his recollections of the Confederate Veterans Meeting, held in Little Rock in 1911 later proved to be accurate. However it is for the reader to decide, if the ‘Legend of the Gray’ is actually a prophecy, or else just another legend that people who love the Confederate Cause, speak about from time to time.

There is a legend I'd like to share with you! On 10 May 1911, there was a Confederate Veterans meeting in Little Rock, Arkansas, to mark the 50th year since the War for Confederate Independence. While the event was originally scheduled for 12 April that same year, there were the inevitable delays. It was the largest gathering of Confederate Veterans since the war, and the atmosphere was jubilant to say the least. The town overflowed with people, so much so, that tent cities surrounded the city itself. The streets were filled with Confederate Flags and Southern pride filled the air.

When the festivities were over, these aged Confederate Veterans gathered at the train depot, which at the time was the only mass transit system. As they exchanged their parting "goodbyes" the feeling was that this would likely be the last great gathering of the Confederates in gray; as so many of the veterans among their numbers, were very old men by now, and would not live to see another year. About that time a very elderly Negro woman, who was in attendance, heard them talking, and slowly walked over to the group of white veterans and began to speak.

"You white folks got it all wrong!" she said.
"What wrong?" asked one old Confederate soldier."This ain't the ‘Last Great Gathering of the Gray!" spoke the elderly Negro woman.

She went on, "Far beyond your lifetime and mine, there will be another Great Gathering of the Gray; so great will it be, that when it happens, history will be changed for all time." the woman continued, "They will come from the four winds, and this sir, will be the ‘Last Great Gathering of the Gray.

This legend lay forgotten by most folks until the summer of 1992, at which time word came to me from a Rodeo Cowboy from Arkansas. He was a fine gentleman, that told of a handful of elderly Negro women, in Arkansas, that were little girls in 1911 and witnessed and heard for themselves, the words that the elderly Negro woman spoke to the Confederate Veterans. The cowboy stated that this legend was being spoken of again! What these Negro Ladies are now saying is; that the time of fulfillment draws near and we are to prepare for the "Great Gathering of the Gray!"

Almighty God is not restricted in time, and He has remembered the prayers of our fallen warriors: delivered unto Him in blood, sweat and tears of agony. Those anguished prayers of our forefathers and foremothers are now being combined with our own. The victory, for which they fought and died, will yet be granted! When the fullness of time has come, God answers prayer in the wisdom of His own Divine Providence.

God save the Confederacy

A Quiet Sea

A Personal Testamony
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001647572756

Sometimes while pausing for a moment of reflection, the spirit of the living God would come upon me, and it seemed so mighty, it is almost as if I could step across the space between earth and the realms of glory.

‘During a period of sixteen years of my life, I was a sailor, six years of which was at sea. The particular ship in question was 389 feet in length and to simplify the story, my job was that of ship's senior enlisted administrator. And most of my time at sea, was on the bridge!’
 

Our ship being of relatively small size, when compared too truly large ships such as those of the Navy, as well as the commercial fleets of the world.  As such the ship was often tossed about to and fro during a severe storm!  However in times of calm when the sky was clear, there's no more pleasant or peaceful place.

Often on such occasions while off watch, I would go to the stern of the ship and sit with my legs dangling over the side.  My body was blocked from falling overboard by the side rails!   So at such times I’d look out across the endless and open sea.  At night, the sky would be so clear it seemed as if the galaxies of space were all clearly visible.  One could almost reach out and touch them!

Some very serious praying got done during these very special moments!  The moon and stars would reflect brightly from the glassy sea before me, so it was easy to ask "Why am I here O’ Lord?  What is the purpose of my life?  Is this all there is?"  Just as ‘Job’ in the Old Testament’ sought God during a storm, I did so as well.  I sometimes felt as though he was not even out there, at least I couldn’t find him.

Perhaps he was in the lightening, the thunder and the crashing of mighty waves, but again he was not there either! But while looking again at the beauty and stillness of the vast ocean before me.  My spirit would consider the far reaches of time and space!  One could hear every sound seemingly for twenty nautical miles or more, all the way to the edge of the horizon, at the point where the earth dropped out of sight. And seated, as I was, the ship itself could not be seen, only the rail of the ship, which held me secure, just the open sea and endlessness of the heavens above.
　

Then in the stillness I could hear our Lord speak, not with lightening nor with thunder, but with a still small voice. "Have I not made all these things stretched out before you?  Have I not shaped the moon, and sent it spinning through the galaxies of space and time?  Have I not created the heavens and the earth, and formed man of the dust of the ground? Does the clay now question, what the potter intended?"

No Lord I said, forbid that I should question the handy work of the Lord my God!  Then he said unto me, "If I have created the lowliest among the creatures of the earth, for my own purpose; How much more have I created you, in whom I have breathed the breathe of life, and made of you a living soul."

Suddenly I was startled by an announcement over the ships intercom, calling me to the bridge!  But alas, for a moment, a very precious and peaceful moment, I came to understand what the Sheppard’s of old felt, when those heavenly hosts appeared over the fields outside Bethlehem of Judea, singing the praises of God.

During that sweat moment of peace and tranquility, it was as if I stood among the angles, speaking with the Lord of Hosts, as he answered my inter most questions.  Now, I have no doubt as to why I am here upon this earth, that I might fulfill his will for my life!

Perhaps I am here upon earth but for a moment, in all the passing ages of time.  But I am here in fulfillment of our Lord God’s divine purpose.  My prayer is that I might be found worthy of his good graces!  "Oh Lord, thy will be done upon earth, as it is in heaven."  Amen and Amen!

To God be the Glory!

Chief Grey Eagle

Last of the Lakota Sioux War Chiefs
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001647572756

Everyone knows the last great Indian War Chiefs lived and died in the 19th century and given modern times, there will likely be no more forever. Then came Chief Grey Eagle, a warrior who came from another time and place!  Yet he was also a powerful warrior and leader in the here and now. Chief Grey Eagle has had emblazoned upon his heart, mind and soul, the spirit of the Great War Chief of a long ago time. He would use his awesome leadership and commanding presence to mold the modern day Indian Nations and make of them a force with which to be reckoned. Join with us now as we travel to that time and place and meet Chief Grey Eagle, last of the Great Lakota Sioux War Chiefs.

　

 

 

There are those who believe the age of the Indian Warrior is long past - relegated to history. But the age of the mounted warrior riding across plains has yet another date with destiny. We travel to the Lakota Sioux Reservation, where a man-child has been born. Tradition says he was born of the bloodline of the greatest of the Lakota War Chiefs, and their spirit dwells within him. It is said of this man-child that he shall stand in two worlds, with feet of iron. This unique prophecy has come to complete fulfillment, howbeit in a most unlikely manner.

He was known by his people as Grey Eagle, a name that was derived from the color of his eyes. While his lineage was that of full blood Lakota Sioux, his eyes somehow had turned out solid gray. His family lives among a spread of trees atop a high ridge, overlooking a large valley below, with mountains in the distance. The hawk and the eagle fly overhead and the young boy grew into manhood, amazed at their power. Young Grey Eagle was like all boys his age, but often he would break away from the group and walk alone. Sometimes his mother gazing off into the distance would find him, as if in a trance. His only response was, I shall be like unto them, for I am Grey Eagle!

A mother’s love understood that in some way her son was special. Even as a boy she knew, her son had the eyes of a warrior and a leader of men and she knew that someday her son would come to fulfill his destiny. His natural abilities seemed to be greater and stronger than other boys his age. He could see and hear with greater intensity, and his alertness was above those of his peers. It was his mother who gave him the name 'Grey Eagle' because she said; "he has the eyes of an eagle." While young Grey Eagle's father worked long hours and worked hard to provide the necessities of life. His mother often took time to walk and talk with her son, as they would stroll among the trees and high places. Places, said Grey Eagle, "where I can hear the wind talk to me."

As Grey Eagle grew into his teen years, he gained a great interest in the history of his people, and the great warrior leaders of the past. He also studied the ancient art of war, the bow and the lance. Soon the growing boy became an expert and was known among his people as a young warrior. Grey Eagle undoubtedly has the power of enormous commanding presence. The other boys never made fun of him or picked on him, for he seemed to literally dominate the situation, howbeit in the manor befitting the early prophesies spoken of him while still a child. Still regardless of his growing influence he was kind and mannerly.

When Grey Eagle turned 16 years of age, he attended a great pow-wow, a celebration of their tribal heritage and culture. The costumes and artifacts of his people were everywhere. But Grey Eagle's choice was to make every item according to the ancient ways of his people, and his work was most impressive.

It was on this particular occasion that Grey Eagle's life would completely change course. He had stopped along the way for refreshment when he met a soldier in uniform. The soldier was an Army Major, a war veteran, and a member of the elite Special Forces. Many medals of valor covered his chest, and Grey Eagle thought to himself; here is a true warrior. He excused himself while asking to speak to the soldier, who was sitting alone. Afterward Grey Eagle made his decision; even at the age of 16 he had become an expert in the ancient Indian art of war. Now he must learn the way of the modern warrior. Grey Eagle was only 17 and 6 months when he graduated from High School, afterward he attended the Indian Junior College not far from his home.

Grey Eagle was still six months away from his 21st birthday when he walked into the Army Recruiting Office and sought to join. "I want to be in the Special Forces," he said! The Sergeant explained the process to him, that he would attend boot camp, then afterward if he were among the few qualified, he would be assigned to Special Forces Training. The young Indian Brave took the opportunity and greatly excelled as he went through boot camp: Time passed and he found himself wearing the insignia of the Special Forces. He then sought to attend Officer Training School and gain his commission, which happened just as he had hoped.

The years past and Grey Eagle was eventually promoted to the rank of captain when war broke out in the Middle East. Grey Eagle was ready, and he knew it. Since some time ago when he was a boy back on the reservation, he knew this moment would come and he was ready. He would prove himself and earn the title Lakota Sioux Warrior, the greatest among his people. The enemy paid dearly for waging a war, which involved Grey Eagle. Thousands of the enemy died at the hands of Grey Eagle, and even more of our own troops were spared from certain death. He return to the States in due course of time with his Chest covered with more medals of valor than were possessed by the Army Major that had impressed him so much when he was only 16 years of age.

During his tour of duty in the army, he had become a small arms weapons and tactical expert. He also became an expert at turning the enemy technology against them and he could even fool our own night scopes and heat detectors. Some of those who fought with him even boasted that he could turn invisible. Grey Eagle had done well in the Army Special Forces, and became the youngest Major in Army Special Forces history. Still, he knew this was but a prelude to what destiny had in store for him. Something more waited for him, and he intended on finding out the answer to life's question: "Why am I here?"

When Grey Eagle returned home, he was welcome by his tribe as a returning hero; throngs greeted him. His people were mesmerized by his presence and couldn't seem to get enough of him. Whispers began to circulate, likening him to Crazy Horse and the other Great War Chiefs of the past. It was at this time, when a delegation came knocking on his door, proposing that he seek to become a representative on the inter-tribal Council of the Indian Confederation. Tribal representatives came pleading with him to take a leadership position on the council. Grey Eagle did not say no, but first indicated he must be alone and consider the matter.

It was then, that Grey Eagle returned to the old familiar pathways of his youth. He spent his time in the woods and high places where he spent so much time during years gone by in meditation. It was night and the moon was full, the wind whispered among the leaves, and he could hear, as it were, a calling and a beckoning. It was at this time that he later claimed he saw a spirit come to him. The image of a Great Warrior Chief, and it said to him: "Grey Eagle - put on the robes of your forefathers, those of a War Chief and lead the Indian Nations.

The time has now come, and you are now ready; the spirit of all the Great Warrior Chiefs will be with you. Your eyes shall be their eyes, and their wisdom shall be your wisdom. You shall become the greatest among the Great Warrior Chiefs of all time. An Indian leader like unto you Grey Eagle has never arisen before, nor shall it be so again hereafter." The Great War Chief reached out his arms and handed Grey Eagle a bundle, wrapped in ancient buffalo hide, and tied with ceremonial cords. "Show no man its contents until you stand before the Indian Nations wearing what is therein. This shall be a sign unto you!" Then a great ‘war lance’ appeared in the spirits hand and he heaved it, so it stuck in the ground immediately before Grey Eagle. "When this lance is no more, your leadership will have ended, and you will depart in peace for it is the symbol of your power and authority."

 

The spirit of the Great Warrior Chief disappeared, and Grey Eagle was again standing alone. While he stood looking upon the lance he knew that what he had seen was not merely his imagination, but the truth. As he pondered where his life had brought him and what was in store for him, he felt a nudge at his back. Then a second nudge, even harder! As Grey Eagle turned, there stood before him a great white stallion, saddled with an Indian warrior's blanket. He had to know for sure if this horse was intended for him or merely a coincident! He mounted the beast and at that moment he knew. Grey Eagle then took hold of the lance, and holding it high in the air, he began to speak aloud as if speaking to the wind: "I am Grey Eagle, last of the Great Lakota War Chiefs. Now I have earned the title - warrior! I shall restore the greatness of the Indian Nations!"

Grey Eagle kept his plans quiet in heart for a while, indicating only that he desired a meeting of the inter-tribal confederation, to be accompanied by as many of the Indian Peoples as could travel to the appointed location. But Grey Eagle was not idle, for he had gained permission from the Park Service to hold the meeting in none other place than the Little Big Horn Battlefield. There must have been several hundred thousand people present that day, standing and seated upon the ground on a low quarter section of the battlefield. There was a gathering of tribal leaders from many of the Indian Nations at the top of the hill, Sioux, Blackfoot, Apache and Cherokee, just to name a few.

Everyone waited, and the crowd was so large, even the park service expressed concerns. But Grey Eagle, their hero, had called the meeting, the day was beautiful, and a cool breeze blew across the Black Hills. When the time finally came for him to make his appearance, he was seen riding over the ridge, as if descending out of a misty cloud. Grey Eagle - Indian War Chief and now Chief of all the Indian Nations! It was obvious to everyone who had gathered, he was not robed in a modern replica or look-alike costume, but in the real and legitimate robes of a powerful Lakota Sioux War Chief. He held the warrior's lance in his right hand, high and proud, as he rode up toward the top of the ridge. Pausing before the assembled tribal leaders, he threw the lance given to him by the Great Indian Warrior Spirit, so that it stuck in the ground before them; "Here is my answer," he said. "I am Grey Eagle, Chief of the Indian Nations and last of the great Lakota War Chiefs."

This day the Indian Nations are restored to their ancient ways, and will be taught and governed by Chief Grey Eagle, who shall unite all the tribes of the Indian Nations, and restore their honor. "You shall speak these words to all the Indian Peoples! Let any man who thinks otherwise step forward and defend his claim according to our ancient customs." About then, a uniformed Park Ranger stepped forward, as if to take some kind of action. A Blackfoot Indian Warrior held out his arm to stop him: "I wouldn't do anything, if I were you." The Park Ranger quietly and without comment, stepped back into his place. The deed was done and history would record this moment as the time of honor and renewal of all the Indian Peoples.

Never had any man spoken such words of power, not since the days when the Lakota Sioux were as the blades of grass that spread across the Black Hills. Never had any among our people heard such words, and given with such authority. About that time an old Indian lady, well past 80 years of age, walked slowly up the ridge and stood before Chief Grey Eagle, looking up at him with tears streaming down her face. "I have waited for you Chief Grey Eagle, since the days of my youth, when they laughed at me saying; the great days are over. But you are here and now, it is time for me to depart in peace, for my life is fulfilled." The elderly lady slumped to the ground and died, there before Chief Grey Eagle, with a smile upon her face! Thus was born the last of the Great Indian War Chiefs, and greatest among the Lakota Sioux. And a leader of all the Indian Nations! The years of servitude and domination by the 'White Eyes' have come to an end!

God save the Confederacy

The Golden Sword

The Making of a Legend
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001647572756 
 

There are occasions where stories lay somewhere between fact, fiction and reality. Such tales get passed on when an event takes place, wherein the facts and circumstances are lost to history. The missing details are then replaced by the talebearer's imagination! Only a vague memory is handed down through the generations, each subtracting and adding, to or from the truths of the event itself. The teller of the tale insights the legend by burnishing the more interesting points, for the sake of the telling. Until in due course of time a legend is born! Still we often find that buried deep within the legend itself; however there remains a fragment of an original and true story.

 

Is there a Golden Sword buried somewhere beneath the soil of the Southern States, very possibly Georgia, or is this tale merely another fictional story made up by the author? The final days before the wars end, the Confederate States was being transformed from a free and independent nation to occupation, there was destruction, death, poverty and disaster everywhere. In midst of the mass confusion, history did not always record either the truth or the complete story. Is it possible the story is true, we do know that large amounts of gold, seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth during this period, was some it forged into ‘The Golden Sword.’ Consider this for a moment, what if it is true?

THE SHIPMENT OF GOLD

Thus was born the story of a shipment of processed gold on its way from California through Missouri heading eastward. It was the closing days of the war, just prior to General Robert E. Lee's surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia. A company of Confederate escort troops supposedly took the gold as war booty, while the train was passing through the backcountry of Missouri. These men considered that perhaps the Confederacy still might avoid defeat, through the purchase of smuggled repeating rifles.

According to the story, the gold was transferred from the train and packed onboard wagons. Afterwards the band of Confederate patriots crossed the Mississippi River heading eastward through Tennessee. Then southward into south central Georgia! About this time word came of the surrender, and plans for the delivery of the gold were halted. The full company, which had begun the journey from Missouri, had by this time been reduced to about a couple dozen men. Each of their ranks varied from colonel to a private! What would they do with the gold, they wondered? The idea of giving it back to the Yankees was quickly dismissed, leaving only an assortment of other options. These Confederate veterans would have to seriously consider their next move!

THE DECISION WAS MADE

After setting up camp for the night, the now bewildered men held a discussion around the campfire concerning this very issue. The talents of these men were as varied as their ranks: they had among their meager numbers a couple of merchants, a cabinet maker, cobbler, medal smith, dye maker and a farmer. Just to name a few of the occupations represented by this small band of men, the remains of what had been a full company. Thus was born the most fantastic story ever conceived in the Southland, and the birth of ‘Quo Aureus Gladius Societas’ - The Golden Sword Society.

 

 

It was decided the gold would be hidden away until things died down, thus time passed and soon an entire decade had come and gone. The period of the reconstruction was passing into history! The Confederate Soldiers who had stashed the gold kept in touch without ever mentioning the gold. They had agreed to come together when the call went out from their Colonel. The day finally came, and they returned to the sight of their encampment, which had taken place so many years before. The meeting was held and it was decided, they would forge the gold into the likeness of a Confederate General’s sword, such as might have been worn by General Robert E. Lee. The sword would be the most magnificent sword ever made, of the finest design, and worthy of the masters!

THE GOLDEN SWORD SOCIETY

A suitable isolated location was found for the work, the equipment rounded up, transported and readied. The slow careful design, redesign and a study of each phase of the process were undertaken. A few days turned into weeks, then months, but finally they were ready for the actual casting. The gold was melted down and smelted into the finest sword ever seen upon this earth. Out of the process, came the pure golden sword of a Confederate States General. The sword was presented to the membership about a week after its completion. It was at that time they decided to form The Golden Sword Society, named after the marks engraved on the sword itself "Quo Aureus Gladius Societas." The original thinking was, the manufacturers could not be actually named on the sword as was the custom, nor could the owner. Thus the Latin words were chosen as an appropriate substitute. There would never again be another sword like unto this sword, and it would do great honors to their proud heritage.

It was evening, the sun had set over the western horizon, the weather had turned, and there was a dry electrical storm brewing. The occasional flashes of lightening streaked across the heavens, which would briefly light up the night. The colonel while holding and looking closely at the sword, carried it with him as he walked outside the small cabin and waved it about in various battle gestures. He pretended for a moment that he was still in combat against the Yankees. Then suddenly, a bolt of lightening struck the sword, knocking the colonel off his feet. The men rushed to him, believing possibly he might have been killed by the strike. After a brief examination they found him to be in good shape, with no serious damage done. The ‘Sergeant Major’, who had assisted, reached down and picked up the sword from where it had fallen onto the ground. At that moment it began to glow like all the power of heavens glory, attracting the entire company, which rushed over and gathered around, gazing in awe!

USE OF THE GOLDEN SWORD

The pulsating power, which had been radiating from the sword finally died down after a while, but did not go away. It was soon discovered the sword would glow with power whenever it was removed from its sheath, then pointed forward and slightly skyward, in the battle ready position. It was also found the man, who held the sword while this was happening, would himself begin to glow and radiate with power. In the process of testing the sword several times there was a large low-slung tree branch, which had somehow been quickly and suddenly chopped off. It happened with such ease it was like cutting soft butter with a razor sharp knife!

After a few more tests were made it was found the pulsation and power of the sword was constant and without deviation. By some unusual happen chance or miracle, what was originally designed to be a ceremonial golden sword, had been transformed into a sword of gallantry and power. This made the man who held it, seemingly an invincible super warrior. Amazing as it seemed, it was found to deflect rifle fire away from the man holding the sword. As if it formed an invisible shield against any incoming shells, which were simply deflected in another direction, thereby protecting him!

It was during these series of tests that a Private among their group, was returning from a scouting mission so as to ensure they would not be surprised by an unwelcome guests. The Private reported that a company of Yankee was in the area pillaging, robbing and even committing rape against the ladies. These vile Yankees would even take what little food the locals had in their possession, causing them to face possible starvation alone. The Colonel decided this was one band of renegade criminals that would face the Golden Sword.

He formed up a dozen of his troops and headed toward the Yankee Column not more then half a mile away! Soon they were spotted riding leisurely down the dirt road toward a once prosperous plantation, now laying in ruin, but still occupied by the family, mostly ladies, who had been left in poverty by the war. The Colonel ordered his men to form a semi-circle around the Yankees just outside rifle range, he himself being the center man. Once they were all in position, the Colonel withdrew the Golden Sword from its sheath.

Then carefully and almost hesitating, he aimed the sword toward the Yankees and slightly skyward as if he were charging into battle. The bright blue light from the sword enshrouded the Colonel and his horse, and then seemed to move along the ground engulfing his men now positioned in a semi-circle. The Yankees Patrol caught sight of the Confederates, formed up and began to charge; making it only about 20 yards into the wooded area, when suddenly what appeared to be like unto bolts of lightening coming from the end of the Golden Sword struck each of them.

The Yankees were not only struck dead, but also in effect cremated in the process, leaving no evidence of their presence. Suddenly the sword had become far more then that of the gold from which it was forged, it was also far more valuable then the fine craftsmanship, which had given the sword its added splendor. It was decided this was a gift from the Almighty God Himself, and only He could determine when and how it was to be used. Pending that time it must remain a total secret, even from their relatives and friends.

SUMMATION

An oath was taken then and there, whereby each man was prepared to face death, rather then reveille the existence, whereabouts or the power of this contained in the sword. Anyone attempting to reveille the secret of the sword would thereby forfeit his life! The original members of The Golden Sword Society eventually grew old and one by one, they pass away. Generations went by, and the existence of the society as well as the sword was lost to history. The whereabouts of the sword became only a forgotten memory!

However it is believed that somewhere in the south central region of Georgia, hidden in an uninhabited section of the backcountry. There exists a Golden Confederate General's Sword, holding the power to make its bearer an invincible super warrior. A sword and a society unlike any other, is even now laying in wait toward that day, wherein someone will once more remove it from its solid gold sheath. Then being unaware of its potential, will hold it in the battle ready position and experience its power, thereby altering history forever. Perhaps that someone could by chance, be you!

However as the legend indicates, it is certain death for anyone to remove the sword from its sheath, save those who are worthy believers, in the just and honorable cause of the Confederacy, and patriots of the Confederate States of America. Therefore a warning is issue, if you should find this sword and become blinded by the gold. Look for the Latin words: ‘Quo Aureus Gladius Societas’ then look into your own heart. See if you are worthy to withdraw The Golden Sword from its sheath!

God save the Confederacy

Battle of Griswoldville Georgia

The face off with General William T. Sherman!

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001647572756

 

The story told here is not my story, rather retold exactly as related by a dear friend, the late Mr. Elgie Barker, who passed away on 28 December 1995 at the age of 78 years. Mr. Barker was a Southern Gentleman in the truest sense of the word, but more important to the story, he was by his own definition, a 'Negro' and a 'colored man.' While relaxed he reverted back to what I considered his true dialect, that of the Ole South Negro. But he could also speak in the modern context of our times when called upon to do so. The family cared for their totally disabled adult son Rochelle Barker!

 

 

I knew the family for about ten years or more prior to his death, and daily transported their son to various activities and medical appointments. On one such occasion a prolonged delay at the Barker residence gave us time to speak and it being a pleasant day, we did so. Every one being inside the house and the two of remaining outside and standing along side my large cargo size van, old Mr. Barker began to speak. "Thomas, I am gettin' up in years - my time draws near. I have a story and I'd like to tell it before it can't be told. I am a native of Georgia you know, but what you don't know is my Grand pappy was a Confederate Soldier - died in that terrible war, fightin' those Yankee folks. The story I want to tell you, won't be found in no 'White History Book.' But it happen just the same!"

.

"When all the white folks went off to do the fightin, only the women and the colored folks were left behind to do the work. We were treated good, not like them Yankee folks say now a days - it was alright. We took care of the plantation and saw to it the women were all right. We wanted to go fight too and not many of us colored folks got to go at first, but later many did. The fightin' wore on and the victories turned to loss, as our boys began to loose ground. Finally the summer of 1864 came and rumors had it that the whole Yankee army was outside of Atlanta. Us colored folks got real concerned, because we heard that fella Sherman was killin' and burnin' everything in his path - killin women, children, colored and white alike. So some of us got together and went to the white ladies so as to say how we felt. We said, sooner or later this Yankee Sherman and his army is comin our way and we'll all be doin some fightin and diein' soon enough. We said; could we form what you white folks call a militia, so we would be ready. The ladies said all right, so we began preparin' - We over heard all about such things from those white boys, before the war. So we chose us a Commander"

.

"It wasn't long in comin' and we soon heard Sherman had burned Atlanta, killed all kinds of people and was now comin' out the other side, headin' this way. We rounded up such weapon as we could find, some were old revolutionary muskets left behind, machetes, pitchforks and even clubs. But still we had no fightin flag. All the cotton and wool was gone to the war, so we rounded up what rags that we could and made us one of them Confederate Battle flags out of them rags. The colors didn't come out too good, but we had a flag. Come the day when we were fixin' to march off to face down Sherman's Army, we gathered in the town square, 300 of us. Raggiest army I ever did see. We'd be out numbered over 200 to one, but that's all right, it was our homes and families too, and we'd fight to defend them. What a motley bunch we were, daring to face off with the mightiest' army in the land."

.

"Those 300 colored men and their Confederate Battle Flag sewed out of rags - Had I been alive back then, they would have had 301, because I would have been amongst them." Ole Mr. Barker looked far way into yesteryear as he was telling his story, and he finished. "Before we left to face off with Sherman an elderly colored lady come up to our new commander and spoke to him. If'n those white boys couldn't stop this fella Sherman, what makes you think you can? The ole colored commander paused while looking back at the lady then answered, "I don't know about such things" he said "but if Sherman's fixin' to come through Georgia, he'll have to come through us." "Thomas," he said, "300 colored Confederates marched off that day and face off with this General Sherman. Takin down as many of them Yankee soldiers as they could. Only three came back, and my grand pappy wasn't among them that come back."

.

Ole Mr. Barker still far away, he looked at me with glassy eyes and said to me, "these modern African-Americans like so many modern white folks, couldn't cover one inch of the ground those colored Confederates stood on." After hearing that story, I was deeply moved! I've never had to face those kinds of odds in peace let alone in battle and while so only men such as these can only talk of heroism. But these are heroes of the highest order and as for me; I'd build a monument as big as a house to these 300 brave Soldiers of the Confederacy. These men were in every respect Southern Gentlemen. Mr. Barker had one last remark before closing his story. "Thomas," he said with deep emotion, "I'd give every thing I own in this world if I could but hold in my hands that Confederate Battle Flag made with rags, that my grand pappy and those motley 300 men carried off when they face off with Sherman."

.

The story you have just read as I said, is not my story, so I can only relay the story as told to me, beyond that each individual must each judge, for ourselves. As for me, based on the honor and integrity of Mr. Elgie Barker, I believe the story to be true. I was invited into the Barker home many times and once I was even asked to wear my Confederate Uniform, so their disabled son could see what a real Confederate looked like, since the son could not get out in order to attend the local reenactments. I even held a kind of humorous reveille on him one morning at the family’s invitation, and drafted their son into the Confederate Army, in which he found great joy. Lying across the mirror of his dresser was ever so carefully draped a Confederate Battle Flag and upon his dresser were several audiocassette tapes of Confederate Period Music.

.

God save the Confederacy

Man in the Shadows

Mass Yankee Migration

Confederate
News Commentary
________Saturday 9 April 2022_________
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001647572756
 

By George McCullum

The following bulletin was snatched out of a future time, when the Yankee Empire is in the midst of collapsing. This is not unlike reading tomorrows news today!  It is hoped those who oppose the liberation of the Confederacy, will live long and healthy lives, thereby enabling them to experience and enjoy the unique privilege of witnessing these events, as depicted in this news commentary.

 

We are posting a special highway bulletin!  Unless it is critical for you to be traveling northbound, it is strongly recommended that you reconsider and stay off our major highways. Since the Confederate States patriots began returning to the political arena in large numbers as a result of the recent elections, an evacuation of the Southland has been underway.  Many devotees of the old Yankee Empire, including scalawags and traitors to the Confederate Cause, have decided it is time to leave.  Estimates have it that as many as 35 million evacuees are crowding our northbound lanes, with even more to follow.  This is inn addition to our own patriots needing to travel for business and other reasons.

Highway 95 along the Atlantic seaboard is the most crowded! Traffic jams are reported, some reaching 20 and 30 miles outwards of most major Southern cities. The overwhelming congestion and mass confusion can particularly be seen along the northern borders of the Confederacy, known historically as the Mason-Dixon Line. Traffic on highway's 85, 75 and 77 doe not fair much better, with north bound lanes creeping at bumper-to-bumper speeds their entire length. The Shenandoah Parkway is said to be a sold mass of vehicles, extending clear back to the mountains.

Reports are coming in that highway 65 between Montgomery and Birmingham is locked down tight the entire length. This seems to be the result of large numbers of evacuees in those two cities. When added to traffic coming from northwest Florida, it is far more then the system was designed to handle. We can all hope they took their lunch, drinking water and remembered to fill up before they departed!

In the western States highway 83 and 25 are equally as crowded with traffic from Louisiana, Arkansas and west Texas, where masses of Yankees, Scalawags and Traitors to the Confederacy, are making their way north.  All these are attempting to evacuate our beloved homeland!  Additionally, westbound traffic out of Flagstaff and Phoenix Arizona is at an all time high.  Like escapees from justice, they are fleeing to the left coast, and liberal sanctuaries in California.

My fellow Confederates, we haven't witnessed such a retreat as this, since the Battle of First Manassas. General Stonewall Jackson should have lived to see this:  It is a glorious mess out there on the highways and one Jefferson Davis would have loved.  However be nice to our departing occupation forces, give them a mannerly and hardy Southern goodbye, wave and be sure not to allow any of them to be stranded or left behind.  Help them onward toward their northern destination like a good patriot of the Confederacy.  And be sure to guard our southbound lanes, least they attempt to slip back into our country!

These people are obviously so determined to leave the Confederacy, scores of them have been spotted from the air hitchhiking.  Several Southern States have laws against hitchhiking on the freeway, but have made an acceptation in this case.  We Southerners haven't had so much to smile about, since the inauguration of our First President of the Confederate States!  We have just lost a major dependent, and their Southern gravy train is over; 'those people' will now need to work for a living and earn their own way.  Amen

God Save the Confederacy