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

Return to Paradise

Could the Old South be reborn in the modern context of our times?

The Ole South has been depicted in all the negative ways possible, but to me, it was a moment in time, when paradise was in full blume.

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If there is any piece of wisdom to be gleaned from history it is this: There are those who simply follow the trend, and then there are those who shape the course of history. It is not always the scholarly, the great and the mighty which step forward when others procrastinate in complacency and compromise. Often it is the humble and the common man who sees the need, accepts the responsibility and takes firm action.

The issue before us is to understand the identity and definition of the Old South and the Confederacy and to ask ourselves; are we truly seeking its rebirth in the modern context of our times or are we merely on a nostalgic look backward. It may be that many among our numbers are imaging an ‘Old South’ and a ‘Confederacy’ which never has and never will exist in the real world. We Confederates and Southerners of this modern area have become so adapted to a cultural and a way of life which is alien to the history, heritage, culture and nation to which we strive to revive. The former was overwhelmingly influence by Christianity, the later by 'Secular Humanism' and paganism. The purpose here is not to define for you, but to simply ask the critical question, that each might answer for themselves.
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How many among our numbers truly understand and comprehend the price demanded of those who would restore the Old South and the Confederacy, in the modern context of our times? How many truly understand and comprehend the meaning of the Old South and the Confederacy, in the modern context of our times and what it would actually be like? Never in the history of peoples and nations has there been such a persistent nostalgia such as exists regarding the Old South and the Confederacy. Yet while the means is presently available to make it happen, there exists so few who are prepared to pay the price required in order to help make it happen. At the very moment when victory stands at the door, is it possible that Confederates and Southerners will simply allow the opportunity to slip away and die on the vine of passing history?
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Since the surrender of our Confederate Armies in the year 1865, followed by the occupation and subjugation of our beloved Southland, the legend of the Old South and of the Confederacy has persisted, like unto a memory of a paradise lost, buried deep within the heart of our people. A romantic time of Christian Confederate Gentlemen Warriors and their ladies fair, of plantation homes, cotton fields, trees bending low their branches and song birds. The Old South is perceived in our memory as a time when duty, honor, self reliance, polite courtesies and mannerisms were common place, as was Christianity itself. In essence if ever there was any truth in the phrase ‘paradise lost’ it certainly lies in our collective memory of the Old South and of the Confederacy.
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We look back at a time when the Old South was in full bloom and the legend was a reality rather then fiction, yet too many of our adversaries look solely upon the institution of slavery as it then existed, while failing to see the splendor, glory and majesty which lay just beyond their prejudicial views. Slavery was an institution of its own time which was fostered by bankers and merchants of the north who profited greatly from the transport and sale of African Negroes into slavery, while the South purchased them and made use of their labors. Those who hate all things Confederate and Southern should look back at their own ancestral involvement in the slave trade. Otherwise allow the institution of slavery to remain in the past where it properly belongs; modern day Confederates and Southerners should cease apologizing for slavery, as well as their history, heritage, culture and nationhood.
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We present day Confederates and Southerners are so busy being at ease in a gilded cage, while continuing on a lost course to nowhere, we are unable to comprehend the simple truths of the matter. The Old South and the Confederacy can be restored in the modern context of our times; however it is our lack of will power and determination which prevents it from taking place. We are filled with excuses ranging from illegal immigrants to sprawling metropolises and tend to lay the blame upon ‘those people’ as General Robert E. Lee liked to call them. When in truth we need only look in the mirror at the culprit who is at fault for preventing what would amount to a ‘Return to Paradise!’ Our cities have become sprawling, overcrowded mega-metropolises, gobbling up our valuable farm lands and forests, merely for the sake of providing suburban homes for Yankees, Carpetbaggers and Illegal Immigrants.
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Rather then spewing out a constant barrage of complaints and repetitions of news-bits which fall like crumbs from the Yankee Master’s table, we might spend our time and rhetoric on a strategy for the liberation of the Confederate States of America. After which we can undue the damage caused by nearly a century and a half of living under the rule of a hostile and socialist foreign power. We speak of the attacks upon our heritage like unto a child complaining about a neighbor boy stealing his candy, with little serious thought to altering the condition of our occupation. Should we concentrate our efforts upon liberating our nation, we would then control our own destiny; our history, heritage, culture and nationhood could be taught in our schools. A new generation of true Confederates and Southerners would then arise and repossess the land of our forefathers and foremothers.
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The reconstituting of society would then become a matter of our possessing the willpower to make it happen! Illegal immigrants could be round up and given a firm but diplomatic and humane return to their own nations. Those who are confirmed Yankees and Carpetbaggers would no doubt be heading north rather then choosing to live under in the Confederacy; those who refuse can be kindly invited to return home. The American Civil Liberties Union, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the Southern Poverty Law Center and the likes could be declared to be Civil Terrorists and disbanded, their members given a choice; a prison plantation home or leave the country. Modern technology has provided the means by which we can remove large section of our sprawling cities, peal up the concrete and pavement and finally restore the land itself.
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These restoration projects could be financed through reparations for the years under occupation, either by levying fees against our occupation forces or after the liberation, a confiscation of federal monies or property left behind by their fleeing agents and bureaucrats. We would be in the process of creating a multitude of jobs for our people and plenty of land upon which to restore the Old South in the modern context of our times. Minus the Federal Court System usurping unto themselves powers never granted, the individual States will regain the sovereignty necessary to govern over all domestic affairs within their own borders. The dominance of the extreme liberal mass media can be brought under control through the return of all legal jurisdictions over the media to the various States, who may in turn require them to adhere to local standards as well as ceasing monopolistic practices or loose their licenses.
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The issuance of broadcast frequencies can be debated in a free and independent Confederate States of America, but the license to broadcast would likely be return to the States. The Confederate States Monetary System can be restored to a solid gold and silver backed system through fees (not tariffs) levied upon all imports whereby a fixed percentage will be laid aside in support the monetary system. In this manner the Confederate Dollar will grow in value against other currencies; a growth which will attract foreign investments in the Confederacy like a vacuum. The agricultural product which will become king in a reconstituted Old South of modern times may not be Cotton, but Aquaculture, where ships from around the world take on valuable sea food products, in order to feed their growing populations. Additionally many endangered species can be replenished in this manner!
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It would likely require an entire generation to completely restore our homeland to where it is the modern equivalent of the Old South and becomes in reality a restored paradise, but it can only happen if we stop whining and go to work. The question however must be asked; do our people or any portion of them truly want to restore our history, heritage, culture and nationhood to dominance in our own homeland? Do they really wish to see a liberated and restored Confederacy, a return to honor, honesty, majesty and splendor or are they too attached to the "Rap and Hip Hop Culture" and its unisex fashions? Ladies and gentlemen, make no mistake, it will require sacrifice in order to restore a paradise lost and it shall never happen if our intent is to transfer an immoral Yankee Culture into an independent Confederacy. Such an exchange would only constitute duplicity!
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Our men and women dress the way they do because a half dozen corporate giants dominate the clothing market and spend billions in order to insure we will buy only their particular products; we shall therefore require Confederate designers, manufactures, distributors and marketers. Our airlines, automobile makers as well as other industries must be owned and operated by Confederates Citizens or else we can never hope to make sufficient gains in the market place or in our society. This means making it more expensive to import the products we need rather then to manufacture them here at home; it means our manufacturing facilities cannot be foreign owned if we hope to achieve the results we require. It may indeed be necessary, even desirable; to restructure the corporate charters system of the Confedereacy so as to encourage loyalty to the Confederate States of America.
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What will you as an individual Confederate and Southerner settle for? Have you ever dreamed that somehow the honor, majesty, glory and splendor that were the Old South and the Confederacy has returned again in the modern context of our times? Does your dream consist of merely preserving our present day rendition of what constitutes being Confederate and Southern? A kind of forgery and an imitation of the original, without the substance, the principle and the mannerisms! As for myself I am a senior citizen and will manage rather nicely for the time remaining to me upon this earth! However if restoring the Old South and the Confederacy means anything, it would mean being weary of men and women dressing alike and of guessing whether the individual just ahead is a man or women, and that too is an essential ingredient if the Old South is to be reborn, even in the modern context of our times.
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In far too many cases we as a people hunger and thirst for a return to a paradise lost, without taking with us the very essentials which would truly make it happen. Those who imagine a restored Old South in the modern context of our times as permitting abortion, where men and women live together or have children outside of marriage, then you are not speaking of a paradise? If a restored Old South and the Confederacy of your dreams consist of men and women dressing in our modern day unisex fashions, then this is not the Confederacy or the Old South? The very concept of a society such as is being referred to here, in practice, would indeed be a paradise or else the closest mankind can ever achieve this side of heaven itself. However it requires a changed mindset based upon the principles which made the Old South and the Confederacy the stuff of which legends are made.
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Those who are accustomed to living in a moral sewer may indeed find the Old South and the Confederacy as restored in our times, to be a hard adjustment to make. If freedom to you is the equivalent of a ‘free for all’ then you are by definition looking for the Yankee Empire by a different name, while displaying Confederate flags and symbols. If removing the concrete, steel and pavement of our occupation forces, then restoring the Southland and its cities is perceived as too difficult a task, perhaps you may feel more comfortable living in this present society with no morals whatsoever, its high crime rate and growing prison population. Honor, duty, splendor and grace require blood, sweat, labor and tears if they are to take place. We collectively as a people as well as individuals must decide what it is that we really want, for it is very possible the price may be greater then many of us are prepare to pay.
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I don’t know about others but my dreams are not of a paradise lost, but a paradise reborn and certainly not a Confederate duplication of the Yankee Empire; mine is rather of a reborn Confederacy which is the envy of the entire world, where our men and women dress like ladies and gentlemen, having a changed attitude rather then merely being a carry over from the days of occupation. I’d like a society where crime is a rare occurrence and police work is the most boring job in town for this very reason. The society of my prayers is where illegal immigration as well as religions hostile to our society has been eliminated. A nation in which honor, honesty, integrity, morality and a sense of duty prevail because the Almighty God in Christ Jesus, the Holy Scripture and prayer have been restored as the foundation of our society, as well as our educational system.
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There are many advantages to living in a liberated and restored Old South and the Confederacy as herein described; let us review a few of them. Our women and children will be able to walk the streets, day or night and do so in safety; a feat which the modern women’s liberationists can never hope to achieve. Money now spent on criminal justice can be used for other critical needs! Those things which are Confederate and Southern, including our history, heritage, culture and nationhood will be common place as will be our flags and symbols. The Confederate States Armed Forces as well as those of the individual States will never be used as world policemen nor go to war accept as a result of a ‘Declaration of War’ or threat of imminent attack upon the Confederacy. The United Nations will not be permitted to exercise their presence or authority within the borders of the Confederate States of America.

 Let us therefore reengage the struggle, gain the victory which was denied to our forefathers and foremothers, then rise up a generation which will have never experienced the occupation of their homeland. Let a new generation of females be born in whom the term Southern Belle is a living reality rather then a legend from another time. Let our boys attend schools which will teach them the ways of the Christian Confederate Gentlemen Warrior, that our people may never again see another occupation of our beloved Confederacy. Then we shall see a new class of leaders rise up, able to lead ‘this so great a people’ with honesty, integrity and responsibility, springing forth from an abiding faith in the Almighty God in Christ Jesus our Lord and Savior, the Holy Scripture and prayer. There shall then be a new golden age in the Southland where legends are living flesh rather then merely granite or marble.
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"Our country demands all our strength, all our energies. To resist the powerful combination now forming against us will require every man at his place. If victorious, we will have everything to hope for in the future. If defeated, nothing will be left for us to live for." --- General Robert E. Lee.

.The principles laid down in this quotation are as essential today as they were to our forefathers and foremothers; if victory is to be achieved it requires each and every one of us to be actively carrying out his or her duties. A return to paradise can happen, however present conditions leads one to question whether our people have the will power or the determination with which to make it happen. Ultimately victory begins within each and every one of us. as we decide whether or not to commit ourselves whole heartedly to the cause of a liberated and reborn Old South and the Confederate States of America. A return to paradise!
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God save the Confederacy

A Moment of Glory

The fruits of faith is your works
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The pendulum of passing history occasionally pauses and brands an event, as if it were frozen in time. George Washington at the Battle of Yorktown and Stonewall Jackson at the Battle of First Manassas, stand immortalized for all the ages yet to come. Moments when men stood against tyranny and won! Like a huge oak tree standing strong against the wind, these fleeing episodes become milestones of our heritage and culture. As if upon a mountain surveying the rolling valleys spread to the far ends of the horizon we of our generation look back upon our history in awe. For we stand on the shoulders of giants, thereby the view seems so inspiring. Yet the day arrives, when we must come down from the mountain. That special moment of glory, becomes ours to fulfill, and the heroes will be from among our own numbers.

 

But who will ride before us, and lead 'this so great a people?' "And I sought for a man among them, that should make up the hedge, and stand in the gap before me for the land, that I should not destroy it: but I found none." (Ezekiel 22:30). But what do we, when the giants are on the opposing side, and we stand with our meager forces? Across the valley, high upon the mountain stands Goliath of Gath, whose heights is six cubits and a span (9 ft 6 in). His armor weighs more then most men. Behind him stands all the legions of the Philistine Armies. We have only a little shepherd boy, come into our camp as a messenger, carrying food supplies. As Goliath approaches, our small force flees before him. Yet it took our little shepherd boy, to ask the right question. "...Who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the Living God?" (I Samuel 17:27). And David spoke to his brethren, now standing in fear, before these assembled hordes across the valley; "What have I now done? Is there not a cause?" (verse 26). King Saul, himself seeking for answers, as to how to subdue this colossus of a man, and the armies of the Philistines; sent for little David. Notice he didn't send for the mighty men, nor those who walk the halls of power, but a little shepherd boy. "And David said to Saul, Let no man's heart fail because of him; thy servant will go and fight with this Philistine." (verse 31). The spectacle would have been amazing; just a ruddy little boy, who would take on a task, that struck fear into hearts of the mightiest warriors in King Saul's army.

Now what did Little David choose as weapons against this giant, but "five smooth stones out of the brook, and put them in a shepherd's bag which he had....his sling was in his hand, and he drew near the Philistine." (verse 40). The similarity today, would be a Southern Country Boy with only a 22 gage hunting rifle, good for hunting rabbits, against a modern fully equipped battle tank. The computerized tank having lazer guided shells and night vision. Capable of striking targets at the far reaches of the horizons, and surrounded by the combined armies of the Yankee Empire. Then imagine if you will, this young Southern Boy walking across the battlefield with his trusty 22, surveying the situation, looking for a weakness in their armor. Our Little Southern Boy, shells, shoes and all, weighing maybe 100 pounds. Yet with the boldness of a warrior he cries out; "Who are these pagan yankeeites, that they would defy the armies of the living God?" The giant David faced, like our modern yankeeities would laugh, at such a ruddy youth. A moment of glory, was frozen in time! A small shepherd boy, with only a sling, and making use of but one of his five smooth stones, brought down the Philistine Giant, nearly four times his weight.

Little David ask of King Saul, so long ago; "Is there not a cause?" So I ask today; Do we not have a cause? Is it not still just and honourable? My fellow brethren; Confederates, Northern Confederates, Southerners, Southrons, Allies and Friends. I have faith in the Almighty God, creator of heaven and earth, as did our forefathers and foremothers. This faith was expressed in the preamble of our own Confederate States Constitution, where it says "...invoking the favor and guidance of Almighty God..." Words drafted at the foundations of this Confederacy. The passing years under occupation and subjugation have not lessoned 'The Cause' nor the urgency of an untimate Southern Victory. The leaders and heroes we seek, are they not already among us? Awaiting for a moment and a time, wherein they will step out from the crowd, "...make up the hedge, and stand in the gap..." It is my faith and conviction, that an hour has been marked on the calendar of the Divine Providence of Almighty God. An hour yet to come, when the pendulum of history will once again pause, and freeze a moment in the memory of our people. A Moment of Glory!

Perhaps we might join together in prayer, each in our own way, and in our own place; "Our precious Lord and Heavenly Master. We come before you in thanksgiving, for all those blessings bestowed upon the Southern People; our history, heritage and culture. All those things needful for life and health. For those men and women of honour, honesty, integrity and nobility, which in your grace and mercy, you have sent among us. We come before you O Lord, humbly seeking, that you would quicken the day, wherein that special moment of glory, will once again be manifest. That we might build upon this land, a society and a nation, which will be worthy of thy good graces. A day wherein our people will be free and independent of occupation, subjugation and cultural cleansing. Be it so our O Lord, when our just and honourable cause shall be vindicated, beginning with 'A Moment of Glory.'

"Amen and Amen!"

The Confederate Knight

Vision or Imagination; what do you think?

November 1996

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 The below descrdibes a vision, which as indicated above, I experienced a good number of years ago; one can only imagine what the true significance it means.

While standing on the back porch of my home on a pleasant evening I began to pray, nothing of critical importance rather more of a discussion with the Almighty God. It is not unusual for me to gaze heaven ward at such times, particular when the sky is relatively clear as it was on this occasion, save for a few scattered patches of clouds. I've never claimed the mantle of a prophet nor is any claim made as to the meaning of what I saw that evening. While looking heaven ward the following vision appeared to me! It is not for me to place some special meaning to this vision, therefore others are welcome to decide for themselves if they believe I did in fact see something and if so, what it may have been and what they believe it may mean.

There was a knight clad in silver-gray armor, riding upon a great white stallion; the stallion was also wearing amour. The knight's helmet bore on top large gold-feathered plums, which were full and flowing back into the wind about eighteen inches or more. The riders wore a helmet and the face visor was closed so his it was not possible to make identification. The knightly rider held in his right hand the shield of a warrior, shaped on the bottom with a slight point and double concaved shape on the top. The shield had on its full face the emblem of the Confederate Battle flag. Except that between the upper arms of Saint Andrews Cross was a modern rendition of white Celtic Christian Cross.
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In the knight's left hand he held the sword of a Confederate Commanding General, it was very fancy, obviously designed and made with great care and excellence. The sword was of extraordinary craftsmanship and appeared to be made of the purist of gold! The warrior's left hand was turned ever so slightly so the letters 'C.S.A.' could emblazon on the hand shield of the sword could be clearly seen. The horse in the vision reared upon his hind legs and the knight's sword pointed skyward at approximately twenty degrees. His overall countenance was as a cavalryman in the charge position. His sword glowed like the glory of heaven itself while a stream of lightening and fire extended heaven ward from the tip of his sword; the fire or lightening was constant and terrible in its intensity.
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The stallion was large, exceedingly strong, and flawless and of spotless white, his legs reared high as very muscle in the horse’s body flexed with great power. The horse wore a breastplate as part of his armor, smooth and wrapping about him across the front and extending to both sides. The horse's armor like the knight's own armor was of a silver gray, and written in large old English lettering was the words 'Deo Vindice.' The knight’s armor was unlike any I'd ever seen so excellent was its craftsmanship, and it almost appearing to be form fitting while moving with the rider as he moved.

The knight rode as if out of a cloud, pausing before me about the level of the tree tops. He appeared bold, fierce, and noble and as one who had appeared on the scene in order to take command. The horse and rider rode down out of the sky but did not actually touch the ground, gesturing and looking down at me. The appearance of the horse’s eyes was like looking through the glass of an old coal furnace door, full of fire. My emotions ran deep and my distinct impression was the Almighty God himself in Christ Jesus, has here to take full command of our Confederate Armies. Symbolizing that he himself would move the course of history in favor of a Confederate victory and the vindication of our just and honorable cause.

God save the Confederacy

The War Horse

"The Ghost Horse of Appomattox"
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We’ve all heard I am sure, of the story of the Surrender at Appomattox Courthouse, when the honorable Confederate General Robert E. Lee surrendered the Army of Northern Virginia, to Union General Ulysses S. Grant.　 Once General Lee had carried out the surrender, his Army begrudgingly accepted the terms laid down, the Cavalrymen rode off into history and the Infantry began their long march home.

But just perhaps you haven’t heard of the one who refused to accept the reality of the surrender, the legend, so I am told.　 That of a Cavalry Officer’s Horse, which immediately upon General Lee, having signed the surrender and Grant followed suit he galloped away.

The incident of the renegade horse from Appomattox Courthouse was considered so insignificant an incident it was never mention, and indeed, it was thought the horse would　never　be seen again.　 That is until; well, join with us as we uncover the truth of The War Horse of Appomattox Courthouse Virginia.

"The Ghost Horse of Appomattox"

 

"I tried all in my power to avert this war. I saw it coming, for twelve years I worked night and day to prevent it, but I could not. The North was mad and blind; it would not let us govern ourselves, and so the war came, and now it must go on till the last man of this generation falls in his tracks, and his children seize the musket and fight our battle, unless you acknowledge our right to self government. We are not fighting for slavery. We are fighting for Independence, and that, or extermination." --- Jefferson Davis

Some years ago I had a job transporting people for medical appointments to such places as Doctor’s Offices and Hospitals, oftentimes the appointment was not scheduled to take a very long period of time so in such cases. So I would remain, either in the Waiting Room or else in the Parking Lot! More often then not there would be other drivers doing the same as I, so on a particularly nice day when the weather was pleasant; we would go outside and swap stories. Some of these stories quite naturally would come under the heading of ‘whoppers’ meaning they were a wee bit of a stretch of the truth. But on rare occasions I would meet a driver, sometimes from another town, who had a very unusual story to tell, so I would take the time to listen carefully.

The story of ‘The War Horse’ is such a story and I will tell it as it was told to me! The actual identity of the person who told me the story will remain anonymous, so in this regard I will call him Walt Bremerton, which is not far away from his true name. It was a Thursday and I had been making this particular stop every week on alternating days, Monday, Wednesday and Friday one week, then Tuesday and Thursday the following week, a different driver drove the route on Saturdays. The weather was indeed pleasant, it being the spring time of the year, so the few of us who were drivers went out of doors to the parking lot, as was our custom on such occasions.

There was no open communications between us to do so, just that one of among us would normally leave the waiting room, and the other drivers would follow! On that particular occasion, like other times, there was mostly jesting, and talk about whatever came to someone’s mind. After all we were more or less simply bidding time until our Clients were finished with their appointments, so we could drive them home. There were three of us drivers that day, and after about 10 minutes one of them left with his Client, leaving only Walt and myself. The third driver in our group had no sooner helped his Client aboard his large Van and drove out of the lot, when Walt began to relate the story.

George he said, have you ever heard the story of ‘The War Horse of the Shenandoah? "No, I responded, it sounds interesting, I’d like to hear it!" You are aware I am sure, Walt stated, that by 1 April 1865 it became obvious to President Davis and everyone else concerned, the Confederacy was loosing the war, and Richmond was doomed! The war had went fairly well the first two years, given the four to one odds in numbers and firepower, but the last two years of the war was a steady march toward disaster. Selma Alabama came under occupation by 12,000 Federals under James Harrison Wilson, while at the same time President Jefferson Davis, ordered an evacuation of Richmond.

By 8:30 A.M. on Monday 3 April, the Federal Army under Major General Godfrey Weitzel received the surrender of Richmond at City Hall; the Capital of the Confederacy was now in enemy hands, as was Petersburg. Meanwhile General Robert E. Lee and his Army of Northern Virginia struggled westward toward Amelia Courthouse, then onward toward Burkeville, hoping to link up with General Joseph E. Johnston and his Army. On Saturday 8 April, General Lee passed through several hamlets and villages as they moved forward, passing through Appomattox Station near unto Appomattox Courthouse itself.

Behind Lee’s Army, and in close pursuit, were the Second and Sixth Corps of Grants Army under Humphrey and Wright! Elements of General Sheridan’s Army, seized Lee’s Supply wagons at Appomattox Station moving ahead of Lee in the process. There were several skirmishes, but the Union Army found it difficult to bring Lee to an open engagement. At Farmville, again not far from Appomattox Station, Grant had received a note on the evening before, which was on Friday 7 April. General Lee was seeking; under what terms he would accept the surrender of his Army.

In a council of war, Lee made it clear; the Army of Northern Virginia was not able to break through and join forces with General Johnston. So on Palm Sunday 9 April Robert E. Lee and his Army mustered at the Wilmer McLean farm on the edge of Appomattox Courthouse for the surrender of his Army, to Union General Ulysses S. Grant. When suddenly there was a noise nearby and our attention became focused on a privately owned van, which loaded up his passenger, backed out of the parking space and departed! We both paused for a while, after taking notice of what was going on about us, then my attention shifted back to the story, as I turned toward my fellow driver Walt Bremerton.         

What does all this have to do with The War Horse, Walt? Walt, his own concentration just then returning to the story! The surrender of General Lee and his Army took place in the early afternoon, and consisted of each Commanding General, Union and Confederate, signing the Document of Surrender. George, it was at the very moment after which General Robert E. Lee had signed the surrender, and General Ulysses S. Grant signed, confirming the finality of the surrender that it happened. I was anxious, so I ask my driver colleague Walt a question, "What happened, is there something about the surrender that we’ve not bee told?

Walt Bremerton paced a few steps then returned to where he had been standing, "A renegade horse George; a horse that came out of nowhere and ran full gallop near the Wilmer McLean house where Lee had just surrendered the Army of Northern Virginia. Whose horse was it Walt?" Well George, that is where the mystery begins! There are several fields of thought; the first being that it was a Confederate Cavalry Officers horse, and the horse had been excited by the commotion of the surrender. No one believes that, since any Cavalry horse would have faced many a battle, so the mild noises and commotion of the surrender ceremony would not have stirred the horse making of him a renegade.

Besides, the horse was saddle-less and neither the Yankee nor Confederate Cavalry unsaddled their mounts! The second option is that the horse belonged to a nearby farmer, possibly even Mr. McLean, but that makes little sense, inasmuch as Mr. McLean himself was not present and the Yankees would have long since confiscated what would have appeared to be such a well kept, unclaimed horse, as was seen charging through the area of the surrender. "All right then Walt, what then is the third option, where could the horse have come from, if not Mr. McLean, a nearby fame, nor the Yankee or Confederate Cavalry?"

Well George it is possible of course that the horse was of divine origin; a horse sent of Almighty God! Still, be that as it may, there has been little agreement down through the years as to where the horse came from, or indeed if the event ever took place, accept. Walt paused for a moment, taking a few steps in one direction then a few the other then turning to where he had originally stood. He then turn toward me; "The horse commonly called The War Horse has reappeared periodically over the years, even unto this very day. I was quick to take notice of one important ingredient, the horse would have to be something in the neighborhood of a century and a half in age, and that is impossible.

The Trip to Appomattox Courthouse

Walt then sensing that time was passing, looked at his watch then responded that his Client must surely be ready by now, so he wrapped up the story with one last statement, There’s a farm northwest of Appomattox Courthouse. The McNeal family owns the farm, and they have seen The War Horse, for brief moments over the years! Walt turned and reentered the waiting room, and true enough his Client was nearly ready, since it was only a matter of 7 minutes or so that he exited the building with his Client, loaded, gave me a quick wave of the hand and drove away. Walt Bremerton was from out of town, so I wasn’t sure when I would see him again, but I did know I must see this horse, if possible!

It was now Thursday 23 March 2000 and I had a vacation coming, my wife Alice and I had discussed going to Virginia, so as to visit a few of the historic sights. I decided then and there that if she agreed, we would travel do our best to be in the area of Appomattox not later then Wednesday 5 April, locate the McNeal farm and if possible, be in position, should The War Horse make an appearance. At the age of 59, I could still get around fairly well, but I did like taking my time, so we arrived in the area of Appomattox on schedule and checked into a local Motel, figuring to do a little searching the following day.

By the time we awoke the next morning, made our preparations and had a little breakfast it was 8:15 but we finally did manage to head out on the road, stopping first at the Battlefield Park, visiting the McLean House before hitting the road heading northwest. My wife came up with the idea of looking for roadside business that would cater to farmers. After a number of stops we were about to give up for the day, when we spotted yet another business, a farm supply store, so we pulled into the parking lot. Most of the farm type stores we spotted were not that large, since most business along the highway catered to the tourists.

Entering the store we walked about the store looking things over while the casher waited on a couple of customers! Finally he turned to us asking, "May I help you?" Unlike most businesses along the highway, this one was no doubt truly a local business, and we were treated to a little ole fashion Southern Hospitality. After shaking hands with the man who simply introduced himself as Charlie Banks, I ask him; "Do you know of a farmer by the name of McNeal?" Yes came the reply, he William McNeal, know to his friends as Bill, he stops in here every once and a while, his farm is just off the main highway and down a narrow two lane road, just up the ridge a couple of miles.

After scratching down the directions of a note pad near the cash register, we bought a few snacks and a couple of cold drinks and were off to locate Mr. Bill McNeal’s farm. Just as the storekeeper had indicated the turn off was a couple of miles up the ridge, where we turned off onto a paved two-lane country road. We came to a left turn in the road, then a right turn, then after a few more miles my wife Alice thought she spotted the name McNeal on a mail box off to the left side of the road. There was no traffic to speak of so I made a u-turn and headed back about a quarter of a mile, so as to make sure.

I turned just inside a lone driveway leading to what was a very old farmhouse, which looked to be pre-first world war but exceptionally well kept, a fine looking home for its obvious age. It was a two-story house, no doubt built at a time when several generations commonly lived together; the gabled roof had a longer gage on one side then the other. Off in the distance maybe 75 yards behind the house and off to the left was barn, which appeared to have a drive through port for unloading or parking farm machinery. The drive way appeared to be made of some type of crushed gravel, very firm and smooth for a gravel driveway.

Search for the War Horse

As welled up in front of the house beside a single cab pickup truck, which appeared to be four or five years old, and looking to be one of those General Motors trucks, but somehow we didn’t see any company markings. As we approached the door a man, who was introduced to us as William McNeal, greeted us; he closed the door behind us and had introduced his wife Julia and himself, then invited us to a cop of coffee. His wife along with my own wife Alice headed for the kitchen to fetch the coffee, and I think to get to know each other a wee bit. William turned to me saying, George, have a seat, if you like, all my friends call Willie.

Willie took a seat in what was obviously his own private easy chair, while I myself sat on at one of those an older model but very sound and clean large couch. The ladies could be heard talking about whatever it is that ladies talk about, and it always amazed me how often times women seem to react as if they have known each other for years. Meanwhile Willie opened up the discussion by asking about our trip up from Florida, which we spoke of for a few minutes. Then the subject turned to the reason for our visit, whereupon Willie mentioned that Mr. Walt Bremerton who told me the story was his nephew on his wife’s side of the family, and had visited the farm a number of times.

Willie, I take it then our visit was not entire a surprise, perhaps Walt spoke to you over the telephone! No George it was not, Walt mentioned that he didn’t get a chance to finish the story, so maybe this would be a good time to tell you the rest of the story. Yes there is the animal commonly referred to as ‘The War Horse’ does appear from time to time. The horse normally appears on days when in which April 9 falls on Sunday such as 1995 as well as this year, the year 2000. Then again I expect to see The War Horse in 2006 and 2017, but you must remember, while I assure you I have indeed seen this horse, I do not believe in Ghosts, feeling like there must be another explanation.

Willie and Julia McNeal invited us to stay overnight, and attend Church with them, since the next day was Sunday 9 April, afterward Willie and I, would take the all terrain vehicle and head up the ridge to a secure place and watch for the appearance of The War Horse. When the next morning came, we had a light breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast and coffee, then made our preparations and headed off to church. The Church was one of those small Community Church’s located in a crossroad village of approximately 600 people. The business there was sparse, consisting of little more then a White’s Grocery, a Farm Store, a Gas Station and a Coffee Shop.

But finally it was early afternoon, Willie and I made our last minute preparations, boarded his all terrain vehicle and head across the field toward the ridge at the back side of his farm. Willie’s farm appeared to me to be approximately 175 to 200 acres, so it took a while to cross that distance until we came to a location half way up the ridge where there was a clump of trees and shrubs. Willie parked the vehicle in the midst of them, which tended to camouflage both us, as well as the vehicle, not wanting to frighten the horse into not appearing. George, turn off your cell phone, so it doesn’t ring in the middle of all this! As opened my cell phone to turn it off I noticed the time was 12:58, two minutes until the time of the expected appearance of The War Horse! I turned off my cell phone, put it in my pocket and had just stepped behind a nearby bush, peeking over one side to see if possible whatever might happen. When high on the ridge it appeared, the horse charged across the ridge full gallop, stopped, reared upon his hind legs and began kicking and whinnying. I very slightly rubbed my eyes, asking myself, was I really seeing this or is it an over active imagination, but a second look told me that horse is really out there and he is the real McCoy?

The horse repeated his feat sever times, charging across the ridge, rearing up, kicking and whinnying! This was the most powerful horse I had ever seen, his main and tail exceedingly long, blowing strong against the spring breeze, which blew across the Shenandoah. It was hard to describe his color, accept that he appeared to be an ash color, with a white main and tail, his dark coat and eyes glistening in the sun. Then the question came to me; "Why was he here, what has made him appear time and time again since 9 April 1865? Then it came to me, he made his first appearance at the surrender ceremony of General Robert E. Lee, and couldn’t or wouldn’t accept the surrender.


It is now 2011, and 11 years have passed since I saw The War Horse, high on the Shenandoah Ridge, he again appeared in 2006, would he do so in 2017 or perhaps sooner? Well my own inclination tells me that if the Confederacy remains under occupation, he will appear once more, but if the Prophesied Leader of the Confederate Cause appears before then, as expected, he will return to Appomattox Courthouse one last time. Then he will dash off into history, never to be seen again! But who or what is this War Horse that has appeared going on a century and a half after the end of the War for Confederate Independence. Well, that is for you the reader of this story to decide!

God save the Confederacy              

A Quiet Place

Jesus said; "lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world" {Matthew 28:20}

The short story you are about to read is not fiction, it is true, it is retold here as it is remembered, and as it happened! The passing of years has made it all but impossible to retrace my steps, steps that lead to the location of a gravesite, where long before any of us were born, a Confederate Soldier died alone. As the scenario unfolded at the time, it became a certainty in my mind, as I observed the situation, that this soldier not only died alone, but was buried with honor by strangers, in a since overgrown gravesite at the edge of nowhere. Come with me, as together we travel back to that quite and forgotten place, wherein upon arrival, you will discover as I did, that time itself appears to stand in limbo, in this soldier’s memory.

 

 

"In a quite place on the edge of nowhere, a Confederate Soldier died alone!" It was early June 1996, my wife, 13 year old granddaughter and myself decided we needed to get away; I was 55 years of age and still had a measure of that same energy that had been mine all my life. Energy that has since faded with the passing of time! The weather was beautiful as we headed up Highway 231 from Panama City on the Gulf Coast, toward Dothan in southeastern Alabama. Upon reaching Dothan we stopped to eat, then turned northeast onto Highway 52 spending the night at Columbia. The next morning we headed across the state line on Highway 27, crossing the Georgia State line!

We continued north bypassing Fort Benning and Columbus Georgia, and stopping in several small towns along the way, spending the night before reaching Atlanta. We were not on any particular schedule, just sight seeing and enjoying the countryside! We met numerous kind and friendly people and visited a several very interesting, sometimes out of the way places, places not normally on any tourist map. However we did visit a couple of places, which would be high on any tourist list, the Cyclorama in Atlanta and Stone Mountain, northeast of the city, where we spent an entire day.
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Then we turned back towards town and caught Highway 9 north of Atlanta, connecting with 23, which then connects to 441 heading into the south central region of North Carolina. After making a stop, we turned west onto Highway 64 and this is where the unusual began to take place. We left the more populated area behind us and headed into the open country, it hadn’t been long afterward when I spotted an old white wooden sign with black letters. It was faded and worn with age, and it could just barely be read, the sign read ‘Confederate Graveyard’ an arrow pointed off to our right.

My wife spotted something just ahead, a smaller but still paved road leading back into the country, so we turn off Highway 64 onto this backcountry road and followed it for what must have been several miles. There wasn’t much traffic so I kept my speed at a low pace, so as to more easily see, any additional sign of a Confederate Graveyard. I thought to myself, how many roads are there like this one, which seems to turn off and lead to nothing but endless miles of nothing. When our granddaughter saw in the distance, off to our right hand side, what looked like a small rectangular wooded sign?

We slowed down until the sign came into focus, it was indeed a much smaller sign then the one back on Highway 64, and it pointed down a small dirt road, a road that was more like a driveway then a road. We slowed even more, gave our signal and turned off, only to find the road was overgrown to the point of being just barely passable. I shifted the car’s automatic transmission into granny gear, it having two choices for drive, I continued moving forward, all of us wanting to see where all this was leading. Soon we came to an exceedingly aged, vary wide wooden gate, held up by a set of huge old fashion hinges!

Posted on the center of the gate we found those same nearly unreadable words ‘Confederate Graveyard’ but this time some of the signs letters were missing, having either been warn away or chipped away by the wind. I looked in all directions, just to see if by chance anyone was about, but there was no one! My wife called out from the car saying, "We’ve came this far, we might as well go in and see the rest." I walked over, took hold and pulled up on the rusted latch that held the gate closed, as I swung the gate open it creaked in the worst sort of way, almost like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie.

There was a clearing before us, somewhat overgrown, but not unmanageable for the car we were driving! I drove through the open gate, stopped and turned off the engine! My wife, granddaughter and myself exited the car and stood looking off to the right hand side of the vehicle at an open field, a dilapidated old house stood on the far side, the paint long since warn away and it’s windows nearly all shattered and broken. I scanned the field looking for some sign that this was indeed a Confederate Graveyard, but at first glance I saw nothing.

Looking the second time, I then saw what looked like a stone, possibly the top of a grave marker, about 50 yards away, so I started toward it, my feet and legs pushing through the tall weeds. Finally I came upon a gravestone, after walking about and looking over the immediate area I attempted to stoop down, while trying to brush aside the weeds. My hands rubbed across the grave marker, as if attempting to wipe away the years, so as to see, if possible, what was written upon the stone. I fell upon my knees in prayer, "Dear God, this soldier died alone and without a friend.

I began to read to myself the words written on the stone, "Unknown Confederate Soldier" it said, and below these words was written, "He died alone." I look across the field toward the old house, thinking to myself that perhaps a man and his wife once live there, and might have tended this lone Confederate Soldier’s grave, until they themselves returned to the ground. I became so deep in my own thoughts and in prayer, I all but forgot, the ladies were waiting at the parked car, near the gate. But still the tears fell from my eyes, "no doubt this Soldier had a wife, brother, sister, mother or father back home.

Yet here this Confederate Soldier was laid to rest, with no one to mourn his passing, but if only a few words might have reached his loved ones, perhaps they might have come to him. What must he have suffered, his flesh torn in battle, it may have been raining that day, he would have been wet and hungry, with no where to turn. Then again, if only I could but roll back the pages of time, maybe I could tend his wounds, offer him a rain parka or blanket and some food, so as to comfort him in his final hour.

I thought to myself, I would give all that I own, even the remainder of my years upon this earth, if only I could but travel back in time and aid this Soldier. In modern times we even offer a dying criminal his final meal and a chance to give his last testimony, yet this Confederate Soldier who fought with honor, that he might drive the invader from our homeland, received none of these. "Dear Lord and Heavenly Master, did it have to come to this?" Just then I heard, as if far off in the distance, my wife calling, "its late in the day, we better be getting back on the road."

I stood to my feet and attempted to wipe away the tears, figuring I should do as my wife suggested and get going! As I walked away, I paused one last time, while turned around to speak, as if the Confederate Soldier buried where I was just kneeling could hear me; "My fellow soldier and patriot, the struggle continues, the cause for which you fought and died, is not lost, not yet, and you have not died in vein, my friend!" I walked slowly across the field back to where the car was parked, and together with my wife and granddaughter we headed for the car.

Standing by the open driver’s side door I scanned the area for the last time, my eyes focused on the top edge of the gravestone I had seen in the distance, upon arriving. I slid behind the wheel, started the car and drove through the open gate, and then I stopped just outside, existed and closed the gate, fastening it so it would appear the way it was upon our arrival in the area. Slowly we headed back onto the small paved country road, and returned to Highway 64, heading west, crossing the Smoky Mountains into Tennessee.

We eventually stopped in Murfreesboro then at the Shiloh Battlefield Park near Crump, just east of Memphis! Our ultimate destination was Jackson Tennessee, but the most memorable stop on our journey was an old Confederate Graveyard, and the place where I once knelt in prayer. Since that day my mind has drifted back on certain occasions, during times when I felt downhearted, thinking maybe it is just not worth all the trouble. Then I’d remember a quiet and lonely place located at the edge of nowhere, where a Confederate Soldier died alone.

A line of Scripture came to my mind, "lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Some time after the event it came to my realization, there actually was someone standing alongside the Confederate Soldier that day so long ago, after all, it was Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior. When the fullness of time has truly come, He will vindicate the Confederate Cause, for which that Soldier fought and died! And unlike so many other stories I’ve written, what you have just read is not fiction, it actually happened, and I will remember always, the time spend at a forgotten Confederate Graveyard.

God save the Confederacy

On Bended Knees

Honored Memories of Our Heritage

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"A personal testimony"

　"The principle for which we contend is bound to reassert it's self, though it may be at another time and in another form." --- President Jefferson Davis

Back in the early 1990's my family and I visited a Confederate Graveyard; there on bended knees, and in tears, I ask. "Oh Lord, why could not these brave and honorable men, have won our war? They had built upon this land, one of the most God Fearing and noble societies and nations, ever to exist upon this earth! Its leaders were the finest to be found anywhere. Why Oh Lord could not they have seen the victory, and the vindication of our just cause?" Upon my return home my prayer were answered in a dream, wherein I was shown in no uncertain terms that our Lord is not suspended in time. That the victory was not denied them, it was only from our advantage point delayed. While we here in our time, see 144 years having passed since the surrender of our Confederate Armies. The Almighty God sees the entire span of time, past, present and future before him!

In the realms of glory a year is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. Therefore 144 years is no time at all in the long span of history. The prayers of our Warriors of the Confederacy, delivered unto him in blood, sweat, and tears, in agony, often ending in death, has been combined with our own, and may well be answered in our time. That time to which Jefferson Davis referred, and we know so well, that "The principle for which we contend is bound to reassert itself, though it may be at another time and in another form." How many times I ask within myself: What did you mean Mr. President, when you used the phrase ‘another form?’

When the present modern day Confederate Political Cultural Movement was born and began to grow, I knew precisely of which our beloved president spoke. Another time to President Davis was the distant future; another form was the process and procedures, the method by which the Confederate States of America would rise again. Our Confederate Armies having been compelled to surrender had been overwhelmed by far superior numbers and force. We today need not nor must not surrender our history, heritage, culture, traditions and certainly not our faith. We have been in a state of retreat, for low these 144 years. We shall not surrender our nation, the Confederate States of America!

In that prayer of so many years ago, I also stated "When Oh Lord, when will we turn and fight? When will we renew the battle for those unalienable rights which you endowed?" In Columbia South Carolina and in Montgomery Alabama, we began the process and with a glorious victory in both cases. We turned on our opposition, mustered our forces and fought back! But for a moment, I thought I saw a return of those days of honor, glory and splendor. The road is long, the coming battles will be many and here we stand, like unto David and Goliath. On this occasion as in the Holy Scripture, "the giant looses!" This time we go out before the enemy with the whole armor of the Living God. The heathen Philistines of our time are not invincible they have their weaknesses. Our troops can be rallied in massive numbers! This time, by Grace and Divine Providence of Almighty God, we will be victorious and we will see the vindication of our just and honorable cause.

God save the Confederacy