When I was brought home from the hospital as an infant, my father was trying to find a way to calm me down. Crying as babies do from time to time, my parents wanted to help settle me. My dad’s solution was to put on the sound track to the 1993 movie “Gettysburg" that was based off of the best selling Civil War novel "Killer Angels." I fell asleep instantly, before the first song was even a minute in.
When I got to be four or five, my dad watched “Gettysburg" with me for the first time (and I didn’t fall asleep). I was hooked to the movie, and to history from that point on. One of the main characters in the movie, played by Jeff Daniels, is Colonel Chamberlin who was a hero for the Union Army in the battle of Gettysburg, and effectively helped keep the South from winning the battle, and possibly the war. With my love of this character, my parents along with my grandparents, made me a Union uniform that was exactly like Colonel Chamberlin’s. I loved playing soldier and would even dress up to watch the movie. Some of my uncles and cousins would jokingly say I was on the wrong side. I didn’t know what they meant. I always said I liked the Union Army because they won. However, some people were not as appreciative of me wanting to dress like a Union soldier. When I was about five I visited Vicksburg with my family. My dad and I went to an old courthouse for me to look around. As I was just five I didn’t notice the three women sitting in the old courtroom, but my dad did and made his own remarks of greetings to them. One of them looked from me to him and asked if I was wearing a Union hat. He said yes, he loves the Union Army. Her response had no effect on me at the time, but now I can’t help but think about it. She said, “How can he be for them.” And the three women left. My dad later explained to me that day that many people in the South hated the North and that I could offend people by wearing the hat of the Northern army. This was the first time I had run into the concept of offending people. I didn’t like it. I knew I didn’t mean anyone any harm; I wanted to say sorry for what I had done wrong because that’s how I was raised.
As the years moved on, I slowly put away my Union uniform because I slowly understood that I lived in the South. I was a rebel, I lived in Dixie land, and I was proud. I had a patch made from a Confederate uniform. My family would tell me I was finally in my right mind and on the correct side. I enjoyed making people happy. One day due to my love of the Civil War, and my new “Confederate soldier lifestyle” I was given a Confederate battle flag. I was very proud. I flew it over my forts in the back yard pretending to kill Yankees while fighting many important “backyard” battles.
One day when I was around eight or nine, I rode with my mom to the grocery store, and for my enjoyment brought along my new Confederate G.I. Joe. When we got to the store, I left him in the car so I wouldn’t lose him, but I got out of the car with his little battle flag. My mom told me to leave the flag in the car, I asked why. She said that the flag symbolized hatred to some people. I was very confused, but I left the flag in the car. I wondered for a long time why that flag could symbolize hatred to people. I knew I didn’t hate anybody. I just loved the Civil War and loved the south, which were supposed to be my people.
One day during one of my homeschool history lessons with my stepmom I asked all the questions that had been bugging me. First I asked her why people in the south still hated the north. She looked at me for a moment, and then explained that towards the end of the war a Union General named Sherman had marched from the Atlantic coast, to the Gulf, burning Southern lands and killing innocent people. He bombed cities to the ground, and committed many acts that would now be seen as war crimes. Vicksburg was one of the worst; Sherman’s campaign beat it so badly that people there still hated the north. I knew from fist hand experience that she was right. She then explained that after the Civil War the North controlled the South during a time called “reconstruction” and made life very difficult and brutal for many southern people. I understood this, and felt a lot of letdown and hatred to figures I still admired on the Union side of the war. I then asked her why the Confederate flag offended people. She said that a group known as the Ku Klux Klan had taken it, and would fly it to instill fear in black people, and killed many black people under the flag. I felt a lot of hatred towards this group. I didn’t like people using “my flag” to hurt innocent people. But she also explained that the Confederacy had seceded to protect the institute of slavery. I knew some about this, but had never given it much thought because all of the Generals I liked had been anti-slavery. I felt like I had the answers now. The Klan was bad, and the north was bad. So I continued to love the Confederacy more, and wave my flag more proudly trying to show my allegiance to General Lee and such.
Now, nearly 11 years later I see people fighting over the flag, the Confederacy, what history we should have. I’m very much at a loss and troubled now. I no longer play Civil War; I have a much wider understanding of the world now, as I should. I feel like the Confederate battle flag is really a non-issue. It shouldn’t fly over a government building. It has affiliation strongly with the KKK. That should not be something forced for people to see who simply want to go to their state capital, but I am really at a loss as to what people say about the war. My dad is very old and was born in the early thirties. He lived next door to a man who fought for the Confederacy in the Civil War. He was not racist, nor a slave owner, but a man who wanted to do his share to protect his home. Why should we stop honoring his courage? I am simply afraid that this is the slope downwards to taking away everything to do with the Confederacy. This is shocking to me. Because people are offended, we can allow ourselves to start considering removing the memory of men who fought to protect their homes from an invading army. I feel hurt, angry, frustrated, longing for someone to understand, but sadly political correctness is on the side against me. I have no animosity towards anyone for this; it is a day I knew somewhere deep down would come. Nonetheless, it feels like waiting on a close friend to pass away.
