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An Open Report / Confederate Memorial Day, Cross City, FL. / VA Hospital, Memphis
On Tuesday, April 26, 2011, beside the granite marble monument on which the Ten Commandments are inscribed on the courthouse porch of Cross City, Florida, with the Battle Flag of the Confederacy on the flag pole hovering over the building, where I and the others gathered would listen to some of the most awe inspiring speeches that I have been privy to. One given by Larry, a member of the Dixie Defenders Camp of the Sons of Confederate Veterans who sponsored the days event, I would grovel for until he went inside the courthouse and gave me a copy. I shall deliver that speech soon. Another given by Lt. Commander of the Florida Division of the Sons, Bob Hurst, that shall forever be embedded in my mind as superlative, and one that should be given as the Keynote at the NAACP’s National Re-Union.
The highlight of the day came when Camp Commander Joe Sparcino bestowed upon Ms. Angela Carter an Associate membership in the Dixie Defenders Camp of the Sons of Confederate Veterans. Ms. Carter, a young Black woman, Chairs the Martin Luther King Peace March Committee, and was the first Chair in the nation to invite the Sons to march alongside the community in this annual event. It is firmly my belief that Ms. Carter and Commander Sparcino should be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for bringing the Table of Brotherhood right down Main Street, as they accomplished what no other in America has been able to do; "accomplish the Dream of King". Terry Lee minus the three young Black boys who had begun this journey to perform on their African Drums, would play the song composed by him in honor of the Sons of Confederate Veterans.
Shortly after the Memorial Day Service, Terry Lee and I began what turned out to be an arduous 12 hour drive to Memphis, Tennessee for a visit with Korean War Veteran, the Honorable Sgt. Ken Thrasher . As we approached the city limits of Birmingham, Alabama by telephone we were told by Kirk D. Lyons that we were headlong into the path of a tornado. By the time we reached the western side of Tupelo, Mississippi, the radio began blaring out a screeching sound, then a warning to get out of your cars and to seek shelter. There was nothing around but trees, swamp like looking land, and the highway. The sky became pitch black dark, not a sound could be heard, no wind blew, the rain stopped. My prayers began in earnest to the Almighty God, as Terry Lee chose the highway. My nerves couldn’t take anymore, so I went to sleep, and woke up in the parking lot of the motel in Memphis. Terry Lee and God had done their job.
Later that morning as Terry Lee parked the car, as I stood at the main entrance of the VA Hospital, I would be approached by an elderly gentleman who wore a cap that read Purple Heart Recipient. He asked me did I know about the uniform that I wore? Before I could answer, he asked what the medal was, putting his hand firmly upon it? I told him that I was donned in the uniform of the Confederate soldier, and that the medal was the Honorable Jefferson Davis Medal of Honor, presented to me by the United Daughters of the Confederacy at their annual Re-Union in Tyler, Texas shortly after I, alongside my brothers and my Southern family, with a few Copperheads thrown in, marched into history from Asheville, N.C. to Austin, Texas where we would ask Governor Perry to replace the testimonial plaques bearing the Confederate State Seal, and the Honorable Robert E. Lee’s plaque honoring the men of Texas for their honorable stand for the South. I told him why I was there to visit Sgt.Thrasher. He popped a salute on me, and asked if I needed him to gather an escort of men. I said no and bid him adieu.
I would be led by Mrs. Boatner, Sgt. Thrasher’s daughter and Commander Lee Millar of the Honorable Nathan Bedford Forrest Camp and other members to Sgt. Thrashers room. Mrs. Boatner would inform me along the way that her father anxiously awaited the arrival of my brother and I. I wish the whole world could have witnessed the smile on his face as he raised his hand to mine. I told him that he was truly a Southern hero, and that I brought a message of love from all across America. I presented him first with a small Battle Flag that had not only survived a terrible house fire at the home of Commander Sparcino in Cross, but also the tornado on highway 65 and 78.
Terry Lee would request that the Sons sing Dixie to the Sgt., and we were more than glad to accommodate. Before we could finish, and we did, we found ourselves surrounded by uniform hospital security officers who demanded that no pictures be taken in the room. I shall go into details of that visit in another report. Needless to say that those women who represented the hospital lied that they were seeking permission to allow pictures to be taken. And were challenged by me for taking away the Sgt.’s Flag, as they argued about a policy they could not produce as I quoted their very own Patient Bill of Rights.
I would like to thank the owner of the Dixie Outfitters Outlet store in Burlington, North Carolina for the beautiful Battle flag that all of us present would sign and present to Sgt. Thrasher. And a special thanks to Rick Boswell and those who made it possible for Terry Lee and I to make this journey to honor a very special Southern American Hero, who only wanted to remember his ancestors and the men and women of the South during this special time that the whole of America recognizes the feats of those who played a part in the days that have led to their and our Sesquicentennial. Only to find out that those of us who call ourselves Southern must continue to hold our heads down as those who came with their criminal invasion into our homeland murdering, raping, burning and stealing, and eventually destroying the Constitutional Republic as designed by the Founding Fathers while continuing to try and disgrace us with a legacy of lies and shame.
Because of the impending bad weather, Terry Lee and I would have to leave after about a two hour visit. As we exited the room, we would be told by the lady in charge that she was still waiting for approval now from someone else so that pictures could be taken in the Sgt.’s room. We noticed that now the corridor was lined wall to wall with Security Guards. We shook their hands, and was escorted by the one who appeared in charge to the front door. Later Kirk D. Lyons would inform me by phone that the Security guards had locked down the facility, and confiscated the cameras of those we left behind, removing their pictures from their cameras of the days event. He would ask if Terry Lee had any pictures. my reply was yes, and video . The dis-honor of the VA continues. The lady had stalled until she could get these men gathered to do her unholy calling. God bless Sgt. Thrasher, and the men and women of the South who he like chose to make a stand in Dixieland for what he believes to be the American thing to do. I shall forever remember the hand salute that Sgt. Thrasher popped on me to the surprise of everyone including myself as i exited his room. No one believed he could lift his hands that high, let alone so vigorously. I shall return Sgt. Thrasher was my last reply.
