WHICH IS IT?
The other day I was talking to my son Rob about all this craziness going on in America right now and the conversation shifted to the times that I have been called racist while doing my job as a mall security officer. He laughed and asked, "which is it"? ""All that I remembered growing up was you being called a n-lover. People need to make up their mind" We had a good laugh together before hanging up. All my life I have had a sense of justice. I don't know where I got it from but I am glad that I have it. This sense of justice has gotten me into trouble on occasion because sometimes I am out of sync with those around me. I do not assume the room or pander. My cause is not about left and right or up and down. It is about right and wrong. I hate pandering and I am seeing far too much of it going on right now. Especially from our government, Hollywood, the media, the police, and sports figures. When you tell the truth and stand your ground you might not be the most popular person in town for a while but at least you can sleep at night with a clear conscience. Besides I have found that the people being pandered to know it and really don't like it.
I can't remember exactly when or how I became interested in the Civil War. Maybe it was the pictures of the Civil War in the World Book Encyclopedias that my parents bought for us. They were our Google of the 1950's. Or the day that my mother picked me up from school and just the two of us went to see a movie called the Horse Soldiers with John Wayne and William Holden. Two of my all time favorite movie stars. The Horse Soldiers was Hollywood's version of an actual Union cavalry raid during the Vicksburg campaign. Although Hollywood sometimes gets it wrong when it comes to history a movie can inspire a child's desire to learn. I was in Mrs. Hearn's sixth grade class at Charlotte Park elementary. Mrs. Hearn assigned a class project. We were allowed do put something together on any subject that interested us. After completion pictures would be taken of our project and sent to a 6th grade class in South America. Mother bought me a sheet of plywood and I placed it on two saw horses in the back of our classroom. I created a realistic Civil War battlefield using dirt and my Civil War playset that I got for Christmas.
When Debbie and I were dating we went to the Belle Meade theater to see Gone With The Wind. The movie had been re-released many times since it's original premiere in 1939 but this was my first time to see it. I was in awe and have seen the movie at least a thousand times since. A movie that the New York Times has suggested should be banned. I will never forget the scene at the Atlanta railroad yard when Scarlett Ohara is walking through a sea of wounded Confederate soldiers. The scene slowly expands to reveal a tattered Confederate flag waving in the breeze while an inspiring rendition of Dixie is playing in the background. That scene usually brings tears to my eyes and makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I decided then and there that I wanted a Confederate flag. When Debbie and I were married on June 21st 1968 we spent a weekend in Atlanta and Chattanooga. While at Six Flags Over Georgia I found a 3x6 Confederate battle flag in a souvenir shop. I did not know that much about the Civil War & Reconstruction at that time. Nothing even close to what I know now so I was still very naive. I was very proud of the fact that I was from the South. Most Southerners were aware of the image of the stereotypical Southerner in the minds of many Northerners. It wasn't a flattering one. I was just hardheaded enough to take on those criticisms and not be ashamed of my Southern identity. That was what that flag meant to me at that time. I was on a personal mission to set the record straight.
On August 5th 1968 I was inducted into the Air Force. After basic training I received orders for Kingsley Field Oregon in Klamath Falls. Like an idiot I sold my car so I would have enough money to take Debbie to Oregon with me. She was pregnant and starting to show. If I had been smart I would have driven my car to Oregon and lived in the barracks until I could have saved enough money to send for her later. I didn't want to be away from her that long however. We boarded a Greyhound bus and endured a tortuous three day trip to Oregon. When we arrived our ankles were swollen to twice their size. We were as broke as a young married couple could be. After checking into a cheap motel Debbie immediately started to cry from homesickness. She would cry a lot over the next six months. We eventually found a place at Shasta View Apartments. It was akin to living in the projects. The two of us walked everywhere we went. I was an Air Force Security Policeman and the base was about ten miles away. At first I would walk to work hoping that some kind soul would offer me a ride. Sometimes they did and sometimes they didn't. After a month or two I was able to find an old 1955 Pontiac. It would break down about as much as it would run. In April Debbie gave birth to my son Robbie. Luckily my car was running and I was able to get her to the hospital that morning.
There was a black guy in my unit named Ceronie Robinson. He was from Atlanta Georgia. Ceronie, along with his wife Paulette and little girl lived at a modest but nice string of apartments. They were owned by a kindly rancher in Klamath Falls. Ceronie talked me into moving there, which was a good decision for us. We were much happier and formed friendships with not only Ceronie and his wife but several other military couples. This is where we would live until I left for Turkey in April 1970. For much of this period I was pretty much without a car. My Pontiac was always broken down. Ceronie and I were on the same Security Flight and he was kind enough to give me a ride to work. His car was reliable but it was old. Everything was working but the horn.
One day on our way home from work we were stopped by two Oregon State Troopers. Ceronie was driving the speed limit and he wasn't driving erratically. A Trooper asked to see his license and Ceronie wanted to know why he was being pulled over. The officer never answered him but asked to see if everything worked. The turn signals, emergency flashers, headlights, back-up lights and the horn. It was as if he was trying to find something wrong. The Trooper gave him a ticket for the horn. They may have been following normal procedure but I have always felt that Ceronie was pulled over because he was black. When a Black person screams racism sometimes I am skeptical because it has become a crutch but this is something I witnessed for myself. Another day we were on a 72 hour break. Ceronie was looking for a used car and he asked me to go along. He noticed a car sitting in a front yard with a For Sale sign on it. As he walked up to the car a man ran out of the house and angrily grabbed the sign. " The car's not for sale" he said and walked back into the house. These experiences in the military opened my eyes to the fact that racism was not confined to one region of the country. There are racists everywhere.
I arrived in Istanbul Turkey after midnight on June 1st 1970. The flight from New York had been a long and harrowing experience. The 747 Jumbo jet had just come on line earlier that month. I never expected to fly on one until I saw that big ole plane sitting on the ramp. About an hour out of JFK I was awakened out of a deep sleep by an explosion in the number four engine. The pilot turned the big plane around and after dumping fuel to reduce the chances of fire in the event of a crash, we made an uneventful emergency landing in New York. After repairing the plane and a long layover we had a routine nine hour flight to Heathrow airport in London. Because my Pan Am connection was interrupted I flew a Turkish DC9 nonstop to Istanbul. Disembarking from the plane reminded me of a scene from a movie. The terminal was old and dingy but even at that hour it was a hub of activity and jammed packed. There was a overpowering smell that I have never smelled before or since. As I walked toward customs a gang of shabbily dressed men and boys crowded around me speaking Turkish. I had no idea what they were saying. One boy grabbed my duffel bag, moved it a few feet, and set it down. He then held his hand out and in English he said fifty cents. Fearful of refusing I handed him two quarters.
In this strange environment I was pretty nervous and feeling lost. It was about this time that I spotted two Black Airmen about my age standing nearby. I made a beeline over to them and they were as happy to see me as I was to see them. I didn't see two Black guys. They represented America and home. These Airmen were going to Incirlik AFB, which was where I was headed. The decision was made to travel together for added safety. All through the morning hours we tried to get a flight to Ankara but kept getting bumped. After daylight we either walked, rode taxi's, or buses all over Istanbul trying to find the American consulate. Around dusk we were able to board an Air Force C-130 headed for Ankara. When we arrived there it was the same problem all over again. We couldn't get a seat to Adana where Incirlik AFB was located. Late that night we met a white MSgt and a white Captain in the terminal. Both were from Ohio. They were also going to Incirlik. For the sake of increasing our numbers we decided to stay together. There was a hotel across the street from the American Embassy which had broken windows from an anti-American riot earlier that day. After checking in we decided to walk to a nearby bar. I ordered a coke. In Turkey they would bring a bottled drink to you already opened.
We walked back to the hotel and as I placed my foot on the stairs leading to our rooms my head started spinning. I had to lean against the wall to keep from falling. A wave of panic swept over me wondering if someone had spiked my Coke with something? The hotel only had two rooms available and both rooms had one double bed each. The two Black Airmen walked into one room and I turned to follow them. The White MSgt grabbed me by the arm. Both he and the Captain tried to talk me into staying with them. They asked me why I would want to sleep with the Black guys. I was pretty naive and it took me a minute to realize what they were getting at. I told them that we had been together since arriving in Turkey and I felt that since I was closer to them in rank I should stay with them. The MSgt kept shifting his eyes in the direction of their room as he talked and about that time a light bulb popped on in my head. They didn't want me to sleep with them because they were Black. That made more determined than ever to sleep in their room. I turned away, walked into our room, shut the door and climbed into bed right between the two black guys. It hardly mattered because my head was still spinning and I felt like I had been walking on mattresses. I felt this way for about three days. The next morning at breakfast the two White guys were giving me the cold shoulder. They told us that they had decided to go their own way. These guys were both from Ohio. Again this experience reinforced the lesson learned in Oregon. I was the stereotypical Southerner that was expected to be a bigot. Racism knew no boundaries in America.
We again spent all day looking for a flight out of Ankara. Late that afternoon we finally found seats on a Turkish Airways F-27 turboprop to Incirlik. After spending a few days processing in at Incirlik I left for my base at Erhac in eastern Turkey. After arriving at Erhac to my surprise I became a Flight Chief. For about a month I was a Flight chief because the Security Police Squadron was short on staff sergeants. During this time I was assigned to a two man room with my assistant flight chief. My Confederate flag was at the bottom of my duffel bag and after unpacking I hung it on the wall over my bunk. There was a Black guy from Memphis named Rogers. He walked into my room and spotted my flag. He said "You a rebel huh". I said "No, I'm just proud to be from the South". He turned and walked out of the room. A month later two new SSgt's arrived in the detachment and I became an assistant to a Black SSgt. He was an odd duck. As his assistant I should have had the best posts instead he was putting me on the worst posts. Then I noticed that he was disrespecting me when he made out the duty roster. He would list everyone by their rank but my name on the roster was always last and it was just Segroves. I endured this treatment for a few weeks but resolved myself to do something about it.
On a midnight shift after guardmount one night we were being posted in the alert area. When our truck arrived I waited for everyone else to leave the vehicle so I could talk to my Flight Chief in private. It was just him and me. After stepping out of the passenger side I looked him straight in the face and in a firm but quiet voice I said " I don't know what your problem is with me but starting tomorrow I expect to be treated with the respect accorded my position. My rank and my proper name had better be on the duty roster. If not I will go to the NCOIC of security" I was armed with an M-16 and a pistol. He was also armed. This man came unglued and cursed me out. He used every profane word in the book and had pure hatred in his eyes. As I walked through the main gate shack to my post he was still screaming at me. The Turkish guards looked at us like we were crazy. He was so mad that I thought he was going to shoot me but I walked straight ahead to my post. My gate shack was the size of a telephone booth and as I sat down he was standing over me and spewing out profanity. I never said another word after I left the truck. Finally after what seemed an eternity he turned and stormed off. I called our dispatcher and told him to call our NCOIC of Security, TSgt Wright and wake him up. When TSgt Wright called me I told him how my flight chief was treating me. The next day TSgt Wright moved me to another Flight and I became the assistant to another Black SSgt named John Miliken. He was very fair with me and we became good friends. SSgt Miliken and SSgt Charles at Kingsley Field, who was also Black, were the two best sergeants that I ever had in the Air Force. Charles was like a father to me.
I couldn't understand why this sergeant had treated me so badly. One day I was talking to a friend and he said "Greg, think about it. You have a Rebel flag on your wall". I seriously had not considered this. For a few days I debated taking it down. I knew in my heart that I wasn't a racist. When I analyzed my past I knew that I was not a perfect person but I had never used a racist slur or mistreated anyone of color in my life. I was virtually raised around Black people. I had played with Black children and regardless of a Black persons station in life, or anyone for that matter, I always treated everyone with the respect whether they were White or Black. So I stood my ground. The flag would stay on my wall. As the months went by in Turkey I saw a softening in attitude by the Black sergeant that had mistreated me. I believe that he came to realize that I wasn't what he thought I was. He was judging a book by it's cover. Doing the very thing that had probably happened to him on occasion. By the time he left Turkey we were on speaking terms. I had learned that bigotry can be a two way street. This experience taught me a lifelong lesson. Be true to yourself. If you think you are right don't be afraid to stand your ground. That is one reason that I have a tremendous appetite for learning. Knowledge is power and no one can take that away from you. It gives you the inner security and strength to confidently take on ignorance. It hurts to be judged unfairly or to be mislabeled. This is why so many fair minded people back down to leftist bullying. Nobody wants to be called a racist. Being called a racist is a method of silencing you. As Conservatives we must be prepared to be called racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic and every other name under the sun. Yet we must strive not to be those things. Political correctness is a means of cutting off debate. Nobody owns me or my mind. I am a free thinker.
Over the years since my experience in Turkey I have studied the Civil War and history in general. My views on the war have changed dramatically. I am still very proud to be from the South and I love the Southern people. All Southern people, White and Black. I am not a Southern apologist, however; or a believer in the Lost Cause myth. I have learned that the the Civil War would not have happened if not for slavery. It was the cause of the war. Yet I will defend what can be defended about the South and it's people. History is not all Black and White. Racism was not confined to the South and never will be. The North has a lot to be ashamed of also from a historical perspective. Yet here is what I have learned since those days in Turkey. If I had it all to do over again I would not have hung that flag on my wall. I was a Democrat at the time and I have learned that the Democrat Party was the party of Indian removal, slavery, segregation, lynching, concentration camps for Americans of Japanese descent during WW2. That they started the Civil War and are responsible for the deaths of 750,000 men & women. They are also greatly responsible for the break-up of the Black and White family because of their welfare programs during the War on Poverty. Their policies have contributed to the deaths of millions of Black children through abortion. Additionally their policies have contributed to the deaths of thousands of Blacks in our inner cities through violence. In the 1980's Ronald Reagan was the reason I left the Democrat Party and I have never looked back. I have also learned that out of the four ancestors I am related to that I can find, who fought in the Civil War, three of them fought for the Union and were probably abolitionists. That is something that I am very proud of.
After I was discharged from the Air Force we drove back to Nashville and I returned to civilian life. Anyone who knows me knows that I am very opinionated and vocal. Some friends and relatives in my extended family didn't see eye to eye with me on a lot of things. Especially on race. My entire life as far back as I can remember I have been this way. This is where my son heard me called the n-lover name so frequently. I wear that title like a badge of honor just like I wear the term deplorable as a badge of honor. In 1993 and 1994 I did three shows on the Civil War with a local talk show host named Teddy Bart. During the first interview he asked me what the causes of the Civil War were. I said that slavery was the cause of the Civil War, and more specifically the expansion of slavery as an issue. Lincoln wasn't out to end slavery in the South. He only wanted to contain it those states in the South where it already existed. He did not like slavery but he understood his limited powers under the Constitution. He had no Constitutional power to end it as president. I also explained that White supremacy was the basis of slavery. If you could picture slavery as a tree white supremacy would be the roots of the tree. In order to enslave someone you have to dehumanize them first. This is what White supremacy did.
Apparently Teddy found me interesting enough that he invited me back two more times. I struck a nerve with some callers who challenged my beliefs on the causes of the Civil War. Later that same day after my first show with Bart, I received a call from the leader of the Sons of Confederate Veterans chapter in Lebanon Tennessee. The man was very cordial and asked if I would come and speak to his group the next time they met on the causes of the Civil War. I said that I would but he warned me that most of his group would not agree with my interpretation. The Sons of Confederate Veterans are made up of good people I have found but they are laboring under the mistaken notion that the war was not about slavery but about states rights. Too many have bought into the Lost Cause myth of the causes of the Civil War. I knew that I was walking into the belly of the beast so to speak and I would be lying if I told you that I wasn't just a little nervous. This was before carry permits and I was hoping that I would be able to get out of there alive. I needn't have worried. These were some of the nicest and most knowledgeable people I have ever met. We did have a spirited debate about the causes of the Civil War when I opened the floor for questions but we all left the meeting on a friendly note. On top of that several came up to me afterwards and said that they agreed with me. The treat of the night was when I got to meet an elderly gentleman whose father had been a Confederate soldier. His mother was one of many child brides who married elderly Confederate veterans in the late 1800's and early 1900's. He also told me that he agreed with me.
General Ulysses S. Grant in his memoirs sums up my view of the Souths role in the Civil War. Grant was remembering his encounter with General Lee at Appomattox. "What General Lee's feelings were I do not know. As he was a man of much dignity, with an impassible face, it was impossible to say whether he felt inwardly glad that the end had finally come, or felt sad over the result, and was too manly to show it. Whatever his feelings, they were entirely concealed from my observation; but my own feelings, which had been quite jubilant on the receipt of his letter, were sad and depressed. I felt like anything rather than rejoicing at the downfall of a foe who had fought so long and valiantly, and had suffered so much for a cause, though that cause was, I believe, one of the worst for which a people ever fought, and one for which there was the least excuse. I do not question, however, the sincerity of the great mass of those who were opposed to us ...".
Although I have always marched to a different drummer I am very proud to be a Southerner. I have always tried to honor that which can be honored about the South while at the same time pointing out where we were wrong. Like Grant I can honor their courage and endurance even though their cause was unjust. I carried a Confederate flag everywhere I went in the Air Force because I was proud to identify as a Southerner. In my view General Lee was no less honorable than George Washington. The only difference Washington ended up on the winning side. I am of common stock and proud of it. Many of those people that called me n-lover are not all bad people. They were just mistaken because of their upbringing and I simply tried to challenge their thinking. There is a benign racism. Most of these people I have known over the years would never mistreat a Black person. I have known a few that would but they were in a tiny minority. After my parents died I was raised by my aunt that was a bigot. She sacrificed a lot, however; to raise my brother and myself when no one else stepped up to the plate. She was a great lady and never mistreated anyone regardless of their race. I called her to task many times when she expressed her bigotry out loud but she was too set in her ways to change. There are many good bigoted White and Black people in America like my aunt. Like America, they are flawed but worthy of redemption.
There was a black guy in my unit named Ceronie Robinson. He was from Atlanta Georgia. Ceronie, along with his wife Paulette and little girl lived at a modest but nice string of apartments. They were owned by a kindly rancher in Klamath Falls. Ceronie talked me into moving there, which was a good decision for us. We were much happier and formed friendships with not only Ceronie and his wife but several other military couples. This is where we would live until I left for Turkey in April 1970. For much of this period I was pretty much without a car. My Pontiac was always broken down. Ceronie and I were on the same Security Flight and he was kind enough to give me a ride to work. His car was reliable but it was old. Everything was working but the horn.
One day on our way home from work we were stopped by two Oregon State Troopers. Ceronie was driving the speed limit and he wasn't driving erratically. A Trooper asked to see his license and Ceronie wanted to know why he was being pulled over. The officer never answered him but asked to see if everything worked. The turn signals, emergency flashers, headlights, back-up lights and the horn. It was as if he was trying to find something wrong. The Trooper gave him a ticket for the horn. They may have been following normal procedure but I have always felt that Ceronie was pulled over because he was black. When a Black person screams racism sometimes I am skeptical because it has become a crutch but this is something I witnessed for myself. Another day we were on a 72 hour break. Ceronie was looking for a used car and he asked me to go along. He noticed a car sitting in a front yard with a For Sale sign on it. As he walked up to the car a man ran out of the house and angrily grabbed the sign. " The car's not for sale" he said and walked back into the house. These experiences in the military opened my eyes to the fact that racism was not confined to one region of the country. There are racists everywhere.
I arrived in Istanbul Turkey after midnight on June 1st 1970. The flight from New York had been a long and harrowing experience. The 747 Jumbo jet had just come on line earlier that month. I never expected to fly on one until I saw that big ole plane sitting on the ramp. About an hour out of JFK I was awakened out of a deep sleep by an explosion in the number four engine. The pilot turned the big plane around and after dumping fuel to reduce the chances of fire in the event of a crash, we made an uneventful emergency landing in New York. After repairing the plane and a long layover we had a routine nine hour flight to Heathrow airport in London. Because my Pan Am connection was interrupted I flew a Turkish DC9 nonstop to Istanbul. Disembarking from the plane reminded me of a scene from a movie. The terminal was old and dingy but even at that hour it was a hub of activity and jammed packed. There was a overpowering smell that I have never smelled before or since. As I walked toward customs a gang of shabbily dressed men and boys crowded around me speaking Turkish. I had no idea what they were saying. One boy grabbed my duffel bag, moved it a few feet, and set it down. He then held his hand out and in English he said fifty cents. Fearful of refusing I handed him two quarters.
In this strange environment I was pretty nervous and feeling lost. It was about this time that I spotted two Black Airmen about my age standing nearby. I made a beeline over to them and they were as happy to see me as I was to see them. I didn't see two Black guys. They represented America and home. These Airmen were going to Incirlik AFB, which was where I was headed. The decision was made to travel together for added safety. All through the morning hours we tried to get a flight to Ankara but kept getting bumped. After daylight we either walked, rode taxi's, or buses all over Istanbul trying to find the American consulate. Around dusk we were able to board an Air Force C-130 headed for Ankara. When we arrived there it was the same problem all over again. We couldn't get a seat to Adana where Incirlik AFB was located. Late that night we met a white MSgt and a white Captain in the terminal. Both were from Ohio. They were also going to Incirlik. For the sake of increasing our numbers we decided to stay together. There was a hotel across the street from the American Embassy which had broken windows from an anti-American riot earlier that day. After checking in we decided to walk to a nearby bar. I ordered a coke. In Turkey they would bring a bottled drink to you already opened.
We walked back to the hotel and as I placed my foot on the stairs leading to our rooms my head started spinning. I had to lean against the wall to keep from falling. A wave of panic swept over me wondering if someone had spiked my Coke with something? The hotel only had two rooms available and both rooms had one double bed each. The two Black Airmen walked into one room and I turned to follow them. The White MSgt grabbed me by the arm. Both he and the Captain tried to talk me into staying with them. They asked me why I would want to sleep with the Black guys. I was pretty naive and it took me a minute to realize what they were getting at. I told them that we had been together since arriving in Turkey and I felt that since I was closer to them in rank I should stay with them. The MSgt kept shifting his eyes in the direction of their room as he talked and about that time a light bulb popped on in my head. They didn't want me to sleep with them because they were Black. That made more determined than ever to sleep in their room. I turned away, walked into our room, shut the door and climbed into bed right between the two black guys. It hardly mattered because my head was still spinning and I felt like I had been walking on mattresses. I felt this way for about three days. The next morning at breakfast the two White guys were giving me the cold shoulder. They told us that they had decided to go their own way. These guys were both from Ohio. Again this experience reinforced the lesson learned in Oregon. I was the stereotypical Southerner that was expected to be a bigot. Racism knew no boundaries in America.
We again spent all day looking for a flight out of Ankara. Late that afternoon we finally found seats on a Turkish Airways F-27 turboprop to Incirlik. After spending a few days processing in at Incirlik I left for my base at Erhac in eastern Turkey. After arriving at Erhac to my surprise I became a Flight Chief. For about a month I was a Flight chief because the Security Police Squadron was short on staff sergeants. During this time I was assigned to a two man room with my assistant flight chief. My Confederate flag was at the bottom of my duffel bag and after unpacking I hung it on the wall over my bunk. There was a Black guy from Memphis named Rogers. He walked into my room and spotted my flag. He said "You a rebel huh". I said "No, I'm just proud to be from the South". He turned and walked out of the room. A month later two new SSgt's arrived in the detachment and I became an assistant to a Black SSgt. He was an odd duck. As his assistant I should have had the best posts instead he was putting me on the worst posts. Then I noticed that he was disrespecting me when he made out the duty roster. He would list everyone by their rank but my name on the roster was always last and it was just Segroves. I endured this treatment for a few weeks but resolved myself to do something about it.
On a midnight shift after guardmount one night we were being posted in the alert area. When our truck arrived I waited for everyone else to leave the vehicle so I could talk to my Flight Chief in private. It was just him and me. After stepping out of the passenger side I looked him straight in the face and in a firm but quiet voice I said " I don't know what your problem is with me but starting tomorrow I expect to be treated with the respect accorded my position. My rank and my proper name had better be on the duty roster. If not I will go to the NCOIC of security" I was armed with an M-16 and a pistol. He was also armed. This man came unglued and cursed me out. He used every profane word in the book and had pure hatred in his eyes. As I walked through the main gate shack to my post he was still screaming at me. The Turkish guards looked at us like we were crazy. He was so mad that I thought he was going to shoot me but I walked straight ahead to my post. My gate shack was the size of a telephone booth and as I sat down he was standing over me and spewing out profanity. I never said another word after I left the truck. Finally after what seemed an eternity he turned and stormed off. I called our dispatcher and told him to call our NCOIC of Security, TSgt Wright and wake him up. When TSgt Wright called me I told him how my flight chief was treating me. The next day TSgt Wright moved me to another Flight and I became the assistant to another Black SSgt named John Miliken. He was very fair with me and we became good friends. SSgt Miliken and SSgt Charles at Kingsley Field, who was also Black, were the two best sergeants that I ever had in the Air Force. Charles was like a father to me.
I couldn't understand why this sergeant had treated me so badly. One day I was talking to a friend and he said "Greg, think about it. You have a Rebel flag on your wall". I seriously had not considered this. For a few days I debated taking it down. I knew in my heart that I wasn't a racist. When I analyzed my past I knew that I was not a perfect person but I had never used a racist slur or mistreated anyone of color in my life. I was virtually raised around Black people. I had played with Black children and regardless of a Black persons station in life, or anyone for that matter, I always treated everyone with the respect whether they were White or Black. So I stood my ground. The flag would stay on my wall. As the months went by in Turkey I saw a softening in attitude by the Black sergeant that had mistreated me. I believe that he came to realize that I wasn't what he thought I was. He was judging a book by it's cover. Doing the very thing that had probably happened to him on occasion. By the time he left Turkey we were on speaking terms. I had learned that bigotry can be a two way street. This experience taught me a lifelong lesson. Be true to yourself. If you think you are right don't be afraid to stand your ground. That is one reason that I have a tremendous appetite for learning. Knowledge is power and no one can take that away from you. It gives you the inner security and strength to confidently take on ignorance. It hurts to be judged unfairly or to be mislabeled. This is why so many fair minded people back down to leftist bullying. Nobody wants to be called a racist. Being called a racist is a method of silencing you. As Conservatives we must be prepared to be called racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic and every other name under the sun. Yet we must strive not to be those things. Political correctness is a means of cutting off debate. Nobody owns me or my mind. I am a free thinker.
Over the years since my experience in Turkey I have studied the Civil War and history in general. My views on the war have changed dramatically. I am still very proud to be from the South and I love the Southern people. All Southern people, White and Black. I am not a Southern apologist, however; or a believer in the Lost Cause myth. I have learned that the the Civil War would not have happened if not for slavery. It was the cause of the war. Yet I will defend what can be defended about the South and it's people. History is not all Black and White. Racism was not confined to the South and never will be. The North has a lot to be ashamed of also from a historical perspective. Yet here is what I have learned since those days in Turkey. If I had it all to do over again I would not have hung that flag on my wall. I was a Democrat at the time and I have learned that the Democrat Party was the party of Indian removal, slavery, segregation, lynching, concentration camps for Americans of Japanese descent during WW2. That they started the Civil War and are responsible for the deaths of 750,000 men & women. They are also greatly responsible for the break-up of the Black and White family because of their welfare programs during the War on Poverty. Their policies have contributed to the deaths of millions of Black children through abortion. Additionally their policies have contributed to the deaths of thousands of Blacks in our inner cities through violence. In the 1980's Ronald Reagan was the reason I left the Democrat Party and I have never looked back. I have also learned that out of the four ancestors I am related to that I can find, who fought in the Civil War, three of them fought for the Union and were probably abolitionists. That is something that I am very proud of.
After I was discharged from the Air Force we drove back to Nashville and I returned to civilian life. Anyone who knows me knows that I am very opinionated and vocal. Some friends and relatives in my extended family didn't see eye to eye with me on a lot of things. Especially on race. My entire life as far back as I can remember I have been this way. This is where my son heard me called the n-lover name so frequently. I wear that title like a badge of honor just like I wear the term deplorable as a badge of honor. In 1993 and 1994 I did three shows on the Civil War with a local talk show host named Teddy Bart. During the first interview he asked me what the causes of the Civil War were. I said that slavery was the cause of the Civil War, and more specifically the expansion of slavery as an issue. Lincoln wasn't out to end slavery in the South. He only wanted to contain it those states in the South where it already existed. He did not like slavery but he understood his limited powers under the Constitution. He had no Constitutional power to end it as president. I also explained that White supremacy was the basis of slavery. If you could picture slavery as a tree white supremacy would be the roots of the tree. In order to enslave someone you have to dehumanize them first. This is what White supremacy did.
Apparently Teddy found me interesting enough that he invited me back two more times. I struck a nerve with some callers who challenged my beliefs on the causes of the Civil War. Later that same day after my first show with Bart, I received a call from the leader of the Sons of Confederate Veterans chapter in Lebanon Tennessee. The man was very cordial and asked if I would come and speak to his group the next time they met on the causes of the Civil War. I said that I would but he warned me that most of his group would not agree with my interpretation. The Sons of Confederate Veterans are made up of good people I have found but they are laboring under the mistaken notion that the war was not about slavery but about states rights. Too many have bought into the Lost Cause myth of the causes of the Civil War. I knew that I was walking into the belly of the beast so to speak and I would be lying if I told you that I wasn't just a little nervous. This was before carry permits and I was hoping that I would be able to get out of there alive. I needn't have worried. These were some of the nicest and most knowledgeable people I have ever met. We did have a spirited debate about the causes of the Civil War when I opened the floor for questions but we all left the meeting on a friendly note. On top of that several came up to me afterwards and said that they agreed with me. The treat of the night was when I got to meet an elderly gentleman whose father had been a Confederate soldier. His mother was one of many child brides who married elderly Confederate veterans in the late 1800's and early 1900's. He also told me that he agreed with me.
General Ulysses S. Grant in his memoirs sums up my view of the Souths role in the Civil War. Grant was remembering his encounter with General Lee at Appomattox. "What General Lee's feelings were I do not know. As he was a man of much dignity, with an impassible face, it was impossible to say whether he felt inwardly glad that the end had finally come, or felt sad over the result, and was too manly to show it. Whatever his feelings, they were entirely concealed from my observation; but my own feelings, which had been quite jubilant on the receipt of his letter, were sad and depressed. I felt like anything rather than rejoicing at the downfall of a foe who had fought so long and valiantly, and had suffered so much for a cause, though that cause was, I believe, one of the worst for which a people ever fought, and one for which there was the least excuse. I do not question, however, the sincerity of the great mass of those who were opposed to us ...".
Although I have always marched to a different drummer I am very proud to be a Southerner. I have always tried to honor that which can be honored about the South while at the same time pointing out where we were wrong. Like Grant I can honor their courage and endurance even though their cause was unjust. I carried a Confederate flag everywhere I went in the Air Force because I was proud to identify as a Southerner. In my view General Lee was no less honorable than George Washington. The only difference Washington ended up on the winning side. I am of common stock and proud of it. Many of those people that called me n-lover are not all bad people. They were just mistaken because of their upbringing and I simply tried to challenge their thinking. There is a benign racism. Most of these people I have known over the years would never mistreat a Black person. I have known a few that would but they were in a tiny minority. After my parents died I was raised by my aunt that was a bigot. She sacrificed a lot, however; to raise my brother and myself when no one else stepped up to the plate. She was a great lady and never mistreated anyone regardless of their race. I called her to task many times when she expressed her bigotry out loud but she was too set in her ways to change. There are many good bigoted White and Black people in America like my aunt. Like America, they are flawed but worthy of redemption.
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