“As y’all can see, these here are excepshunnul exaimples of Confed’rate Battle Flags,” said Bobbi Lee, our Tennessee Museum of American History at Memphis tour guide. She spoke quite loudly in order to overcome the size of the room, as well as the Civil War-Era music emerging from a speaker next to a nearby exhibit about drummer boys and buglers.

“Oh, great!” said Verona. “We gotsta see more Southern Pride.” The portraits of Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee in the restaurant had upset her at breakfast. Verona Simms was an exceptional example of a Northern Cheerleader, complete with crimson lips and starry eyes. I had been looking to impress her somehow all during our trip, but a guy like me just doesn’t make a cheerleader blush.

Bobbi Lee continued, “This ‘ere flag was capshurd by the 20th Michigan during the battle of Fredericksburg. Do y’all see where them bullets passed right on through the material?” The flag was just another old piece of cloth inside of a glass case next to a dozen other flags, but I knew that it was Bobbi Lee’s job to make history come alive or something. She was a delicious young lady of about twenty, and probably a History Major at Tennessee. I started imagining her in one of those orange Vols volleyball jerseys with black spandex shorts.

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The Last Casualty