Gaar,

You'll be in San Marino counting your money.

On Nov 9, 8:20 am, Gaar <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
> http://www.ejectejecteject.com/
>
> A FLAG, ON A HILL
>
> As Civil War battles went, it was a small and insignificant affair.
> But in terms of story – and especially, in terms of lessons – it’s one
> of my favorites.
>
> The war had not yet fully turned in October of 1864. And even though
> Stonewall Jackson had been dead for well over a year – killed by
> mistake by his own men at the Battle of Chancellorsville -- the
> Shenandoah Valley still belonged if not to Jackson then to Jackson’s
> ghost, for it was there that he and his “foot cavalry” had won their
> eternal place in Valhalla. Jackson’s tactical brilliance and the
> endless series of Union routs still hung like clouds of gunpowder in
> the valleys and hollows of the Shenandoah.
>
> And so it came a no surprise to either the Union or the Confederate
> soldiers on the banks of Cedar Creek to see, once again, a blue rout –
> men throwing down rifles and knapsacks and running for their lives,
> dodging perhaps the few hissing musket balls fired at their backs but
> completely unable to escape the jeering and the insults and that high,
> horrible Rebel yell, as that pack of feral wolves descended on their
> camps, drank their coffee, ate their rations and sat going through
> their personal effects, admiring photos and reading letters from their
> sweethearts. Not a loss, but a rout. Another rout. The latest in an
> ongoing series of routs without end, or so it must have seemed.
>
> The Union general was a young man, new to his command, and who in
> point of fact had been back in Washington during the defeat. But as he
> rode toward the sound of the guns that morning, curiosity turned to
> apprehension, and apprehension to something worse, as he crossed Mill
> Creek and came upon a low hill, to see before him “the appalling
> spectacle of a panic-stricken Army.”
>
> Phillip Sheridan was his name, described by Shelby Foote as a man with
> the face of a Mongol Warlord and a hair so short and dense it made his
> head look like a bullet with a coat of black paint.
>
> Sheridan’s first instinct was to form a straggler line and prepare for
> the final Rebel assault. But the Rebels were too busy celebrating. And
> after he caught his breath, Little Phil noticed something surprising:
> not a broken and routed army, fleeing for their lives, but small
> groups of men boiling fresh coffee, speaking to one another calmly and
> cheering him as he rode by.
>
> One of his aides described him at that moment: “As he galloped on, his
> features grew gradually set, as those carved in stone, and the same
> dull red glint I had seen in his piercing eyes when, on other
> occasions, the battle was going against us, was there now.”
>
> You bet it was.
>
> The closer Sheridan came to the battle, the more cheerful and animated
> his defeated men became. Encountering a small group of them, Little
> Phil would stand in the saddle, and give a jaunty salute – as if to
> congratulate them on a great victory, rather than another humiliating
> defeat.
>
> The result was electric, if not universal. Amid the cheering, one
> infantry colonel – whose descendents perhaps would go on to become
> campaign advisors – stood in Sheridan’s path and begged him not to go
> on.
>
> “The army’s whipped!” he cried.
>
> “You are, but the army isn’t,” growled Sheridan, who then put the
> spurs to a horse who’s back was taller than he was and rode to the
> scene of the disaster, shouting, “About face, boys! We are going back
> to our camps! We are going to lick them out of their boots!”
>
> His men were not beaten. They just needed leadership.
>
> “We are going to get a twist on those fellows, men!” he shouted,
> pounding down the pike. “We are going to lick them out of their
> boots!”
>
> And that’s what he did, too. He and his routed army went back to that
> field and licked those Rebels right out of their boots.
>
> “Run!” he shouted, standing in the stirrups. “Go after them! We’ve got
> the God-damnedest twist on them you ever saw!”
>
> Battles don’t always go that way. But sometimes they do. It depends on
> whether the individual soldier still has any fight in him.
>
> It has been a source of delight for me these past few days to see
> nothing but evidence of this, all across our defeated lines. Nowhere
> have I heard a shred of defeatism or despair. On the contrary. In
> point of fact, the magnanimity and graciousness I have seen in defeat
> in so many places on the right tells me that this is a eager and
> seasoned army, one able to look defeat in the face and own up to the
> errors in tactics and strategy that got us there. And nowhere do I see
> a call to abandon our core principles and sue for terms, but rather
> that our loss was caused precisely by our abandonment of the issues we
> which hold dear and which have served us so well on battlefields
> past.
>
> So consider this, my fellows in arms:
>
> On Tuesday, the Left – armed with the most attractive, eloquent,
> young, hip and charismatic candidate I have seen with my adult eyes, a
> candidate shielded by a media so overtly that it can never be such a
> shield again, who appeared after eight years of a historically
> unpopular President, in the midst of two undefended wars and at the
> time of the worst financial crisis since the Depression and whose
> praises were sung by every movie, television and musical icon without
> pause or challenge for 20 months… who ran against the oldest nominee
> in the country’s history, against a campaign rent with internal
> disarray and determined not to attack in the one area where attack
> could have succeeded and who was out-spent no less than seven-to-one
> in a cycle where not a single debate question was unfavorable to his
> opponent – that historic victory, that perfect storm of opportunity…
>
> Yielded a result of 53%
>
> Folks, we are going to lick these people out of their boots.
>
> There is much to do. That a man with such overt Marxist ideas and such
> a history of association with virulent anti-Americans can be elected
> President should make it crystal clear to each of us just how far we
> have let fall the moral tone of this Republic. The great lesson from
> Ronald Reagan was simply that we can and must gently educate as well
> as campaign, and explain our ideas with smiles on our faces and real
> joy in our hearts, for unlike the far-left radical who gained the
> Presidency on Tuesday, we start with 150 million of the most free and
> intelligent and hard-working people in the history of the Earth at our
> backs, with a philosophy that -- unlike theirs, which has resulted in
> 100 million dead in unmarked graves -- has liberated and enriched more
> people and created more joy than any nation or combination of nations
> in our history.
>
> How can we lose this greater fight, my friends? How can we lose,
> unless we give up?
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