Renegade_1

Hear ye, hear ye! Tennessee Dave has spoken. The Confederate Flag is a racist symbol to all! So let it be written, so let it be said. We poor Southerners are fortunate to have a spokesman such as yourself to enlighten us on the meaning of that flag. I tell you what Dave, if that belief gives you a warm fuzzy and helps you sleep better at night, then God bless you brother.

Amen brother!

General Lee was overconfident. I think he truly believed that his men would carry the day no matter the odds. I also believe that if Stonewall Jackson had not been killed at Chancellorsville that maybe his presence at Gettysburg would have changed the outcome of the battle. You make a great point about "Divine Providence."

“It's all now you see. Yesterday won't be over until tomorrow and tomorrow began ten thousand years ago. For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it's still not yet two o'clock on that July afternoon in 1863, the brigades are in position behind the rail fence, the guns are laid and ready in the woods and the furled flags are already loosened to break out and Pickett himself with his long oiled ringlets and his hat in one hand probably and his sword in the other looking up the hill waiting for Longstreet to give the word and it's all in the balance, it hasn't happened yet, it hasn't even begun yet, it not only hasn't begun yet but there is still time for it not to begin against that position and those circumstances which made more men than Garnett and Kemper and Armistead and Wilcox look grave yet it's going to begin, we all know that, we have come too far with too much at stake and that moment doesn't need even a fourteen-year-old boy to think This time. Maybe this time with all this much to lose than all this much to gain: Pennsylvania, Maryland, the world, the golden dome of Washington itself to crown with desperate and unbelievable victory the desperate gamble, the cast made two years ago; or to anyone who ever sailed a skiff under a quilt sail, the moment in 1492 when somebody thought This is it: the absolute edge of no return, to turn back now and make home or sail irrevocably on and either find land or plunge over the world's roaring rim.”