They came marching through the heat of the day – appearing in the
distance then flooding up Main Street with their polished boots and
muskets glittering like crisp tinsel against an evergreen.  The Stars
and Bars hung from the poles some carried and wafted in the breeze.
Japhy watched from a lawn down the road as the soldiers clomped past
the Dairy Queen and the Pep Boys and were greeted by the claps and
cheers of dizzy onlookers cradling their coffees and colas and
squinting in the sunlight.

Whatchya doin’ over there, Japhy? the other children yelled, Betta run
and hide – haha – Yeah, Japhy – Hurry before them white bhoys find ya
and shoot ya daid.  Japhy turned to look back at the children who were
calling and jeering from the front stoop of the Battleground Project.
He pulled in his under bite and snarled, They ain’t fightin’ nobody –
It’s another one of them RE-en-ACTments is all, he said awkwardly then
he puffed out his chest like the man he wasn’t.

That ain’t what I hear, said little Horace, emerging barefooted from
the stoop and stepping onto the lawn, his skinny limbs barely filling
his baggy shirt, Heard they gather round once ah year and look for
little negros like you and me ta put ah bullet in – hehe. His giggle
prompted the other children to chirp-up and join in on the teasing.
Japhy stood still and voiceless watching them all.

You only sayin’ that cause you’re ah-fraid, Japhy said to Horace. All
the children fell silent, then began to laugh again and Horace’s eyes
began to grow wide with embarrassment, his Hershey skin hiding the
blush below his cheeks.  I ain’t the one who’s ah-fraid, bhoy, he said
to Japhy, I think you’re the one who’s scared.  And then the children
began to make loud AWWWs and NAWWWs, having a real good time watching
the two boys face off.

Scared ah what? Japhy shot back, You know damn well I ain’t ah-fraid
ah no stupid Confederate.  Well, Horace said, If you so brave then why
dontchya go on down there ta them soliders and just tell’em how stupid
ya think they are!  Japhy narrowed his gaze down the road at all the
flags and banners, hesitant but resolute. He looked back at Horace,
feeling the eyes of all the other children burning through him from
the periphery.  Shoot, he said, I was gonna go down there anyways.
Better watch your step, said Horace, They could catch ya and string ya
up like they didya daddy.  He laughed but the stoop was quiet and the
children waited for Japhy’s response:  You know my daddy’s in prison –
BESIDES – I’d kill some of’em before they could touch me, he said
proudly, They’re nothin’ but ah buncha potbellied lazies anyhow – Look
at’em, they could never catch me.

Beneath the streetlights and telephone poles on Main Street marched a
battalion of men in grey.  They moved across the black pavement of the
road hoisting their flags and banners as the sunlight picked them out
distinctly.  One of them raised a bugle and a metallic note sounded
and echoed against the green oak leaves and red brick buildings.
Behind them tromped a rally of others that stretched far out towards
the rear of the queue and formed a long snake of men walking in uneven
sets, like an army of armatures, ramshackle with their plump forms
stretching their garments to the seams and saturating the fabric with
sweat as they clopped along in the humid air.  A police car rolled
ominously before the bevy, the lights from the sirens blinking blue
and yellow without a sound, clearing the way down Main Street for the
line of troops gimping behind.

Japhy squared-up Horace, I bet ya ain’t got the balls on ya ta come
with me, he said.  Horace looked out nervously at the scene.  His eyes
were unsure as he took in the distance between he and the crowd, then
glanced back at the stoop.  Ya hear this, bhoy? he said, We all ain’t
as stupid as you, Japhy – Why ya think I’d go down there when I’m nice
and fine right here?  Japhy smiled and looked at the stoop with
assurance.  I think it’s cause you-ah scaredy cat, he smirked, Won’t
ya mommy let ya go?  Horace’s eyes fluttered with anger as he watched
Japhy begin to leer from across the lawn his drooly jowl spreading
wide.  The stoop was mute and Horace knew now he didn’t have a choice.
Fine, Japhy-bhoy, he shouted, I’ll go with ya – But don’t expect me
ta hang around for ya when the troops start ah-firin’…

Moving along the gravel edges of the road, the boys slipped past the
Texaco then through the lot of the old Chevy dealer and soon they
could see the soldiers come into clear view.  There were hundreds with
white gloves and shiny boots.  All of them had fastened the brass
buttons on their coats sparkling brightly against the grey fabric as
they marched, tromping along in their canvas trousers and heavy
gaiters – ashen from the knees to the ankles and black at the toes
which swung past like clumsy, rubber pendulums.  The crowd along the
sidewalk began to thicken and the boys blended into the sea of tall
whites crested in blue grained oxfords and floral sundresses, their
eyes moving seamlessly along the streamered backdrop.

Japhy stepped gingerly through the cluster and Horace followed alert
and uneasy but growing less anxious with each step.  Seeee Horace,
Japhy said, There ain’t nothin’ ta be ah-fraid of, and he laughed then
licked his lips.  Never said there was, Horace remarked coldly, Let’s
just move towards the end so we can see where they all headed.

It took Japhy and Horace a few good minutes to weave in and out of all
the adults who grazed along the sidewalk hardly noticed either of the
boys as they made their way up to the square.  The whole block was
full of flags that drifted with gold and white fringe which seemed to
glow in the boys’ eyes, from their chocolate cheeks up to the blue sky
above.  They made their way to the end but a policeman had the
sidewalk quartered off at the square, so Horace followed Japhy as they
doubled back and cut through the alley and around to the next block
taking them into the square.

A platform had been thrown up in the front of the Courthouse and on it
stood a small podium flanked on both sides by a row of Confederate
flags with a red that seemed to burn harshly like a hot, cherry flame.
It reminded the boys of a tradition they had come to recognize, but
only understood as a latent hostility they could not fully comprehend.
At the platform stood a uniformed figure and behind him other men
dressed in identical solider garb fanned out evenly on both sides.
They called themselves the “Sons of Confederate Veterans” (as it read
from one of the more prominent banners) and the boys ambled onward to
the foreground.   Hundreds of people had swamped the square as they
attempted to gather around the platform, squeezing around and between
the grey coats and starred banners, pushing closer towards the dark
silhouettes standing grimly across the platform, like rabid whisky
gentry feeding on the dusky reminiscence displayed ever so shabbily
across the stage ahead.  As the boys settled in beside the hips and
bums of the other onlookers, they could hear the steady boom of the
speaker’s voice which moved slowly with a drawn-out, wooly pace of
either extreme self-assurance or complete obliviousness.  Japhy and
Horace could have heard every word from where they stood, but they
could not see, so they moved nearer towards the platform in the
direction of the solemn figures.  Both boys were awestruck by the
scene – the grey clad forms surrounded by a sea of blue Southern
Crosses that seemed to droop over like soggy willow branches as all
the white hemming glowed crisply where the sunlight caught the fringe
drifting against the surrounding dust.

Suddenly the speaker raised his pudgy arm against the podium and
looked out across the square, painting oblique angles with his eyes
along the crowd.

Our Mayor’s desire to sanitize the Battle of Franklin commemoration by
banning the Confederate flag is truly regrettable, he shouted and the
multitude before him answered with plaintive distant echoes, Booo –
Why? – Never!

Tennessee furnished as many men as any other state, the speaker
announced, They came from every walk of life imaginable – from
mansions to molehills – And they came eagerly with pride – These men,
our men, many of whom were just boys, gave up their chance at an
education, their business prospects, their hopes for marriage and, in
many cases, their lives knowing all well that they were called forth
to serve and fight for a cause they knew was just.

There was a soft murmur of delight that rolled across the square.  The
speaker felt encouraged and, with a rosy julep scowl, continued:

To appreciate the valor and fortitude of our fallen soldiers, we must
respond by preserving their memory and the values they saw fit to
defend with their lives – It is they who are the sole victors – They
are the true heroes, veterans, and patriots of this land and they have
achieved all that human exertion could possibly accomplish – The bones
of our comrades lie quietly in the soil of Kentucky and in the mud of
Mississippi, they lie contentedly in the clay of Georgia and in the
sands of Carolina, and their souls can rest peacefully from the hills
of Virginia all the way to the crimson tides of Alabama because today
– my friends – today they were honored HERE by Tennessee.

Horace looked at Japhy, Can you believe this?  Believe what? asked
Japhy giddy with excitement, All the bones?  You know what I’m sayin’,
Horace said, Let’s get outta here.  Ah – Don’t chicken-out on me now,
Japhy said, Let’s hear ah little more.

We must remember, roared the speaker, many of these men served in the
Confederate Army of Tennessee – Many hailing from both Davidson and
Williamson counties – And you will find many of the names of our
Southern boys etched on the headstones in the graveyards of this very
town, not to mention Generals Samuel Calhoun and Otho Strahl,
Commander Hiram B. Granbury and Lieutenant Jeremiah Gist, and my own
dear great-grand-daddy, Brigadier General Jonathan Cox, who fell with
a thousand others…where the Walgreen’s stands today.

Come on, Japhy, Horace said, I’m starting ta feel sick – Please can we
go?  Alright, said Japhy, I just wanted to see if they would fire-off
any of them guns they got, but I guess they ain’t.

On the way back, the boys moved up the roadside along the gravel and
dust, past the McDonalds and an abandoned barbecue stand.  What was
all that about anyhow? Horace asked, Why’d they fight those battles if
they knew so many of’em were gonna get shot at?  Beats me, Japhy said,
No tellin’ why them whitefolk went ta war – They say you can find old
bullets in the grass behind the muffler shop but I ain’t ever seen
none.  Sounds pretty strange ifya ask me, Horace said.  Just then,
cheers and claps sounded in the distance from the square now far
behind them and the boys paused for a moment before moving on.

Come ta think of it though, Japhy said, I think it had somethin’ ta do
with them Yankees wanting the folks down here ta quite callin’ boys
like you and me niggas and not lettin’ the blacks back then have any
money.  What’s ah Yankee? Horace asked.  It’s ah white boy from New
York or Chicago.  Well that’s funny, Horace giggled, I thought the
Yankees were the ones who won the war.  They did, said Japhy, that’s
what that man was sayin’ but in ah nicer way so the people listenin’
didn’t get all upset.  Horace shook his head. Then how come they still
call us niggas and we still ain’t got no money?  Japhy shrugged as he
listened to Horace.  I suppose they can get away with it in Franklin,
he said, I don’t think it bothers the Yankees none…long as they don’t
hear it or see it – That way all the white folks can stay happy I
reckon.

They walked in silence past a row of sugar maples.  The rays from the
sun beamed steadily and fell across the road but felt softer on the
boys’ eyes than the bright flags they had left behind. Then they
crossed the street towards the project lawn and walked past the paved
lot of the pizza joint where six-thousand soldiers had died.