Monuments: A Deadly Day at Jefferson Park

By Myron J. Clifton

Monuments to the US War between the States romanticized the notion of the Confederacy. While these monuments came down early in the twenty-first century, it did not signal the end to the romantic ideas people held about the war, nor the existence of white supremacy. In the near future, Civil War reenactment events are still held, and, other than fist fights and drunken brawls, have been mostly violence-free.

Until now.

When Jenn’s employer is granted a contract at the country’s largest Civil War reenactment, she and the other managers, Paul, Jack, Mari, and Clarence, have to make some tough calls. Across the country, the event’s promoter and his main sponsor, a popular evangelical preacher, make plans for an event no one will soon forget. Thrown together, along with unlikely girlfriends, a doting congregant, and an unstable redneck, the characters are in for a deadly day of monumental terror.


PRAISE FOR THE AUTHOR’S PREVIOUS NOVEL,
BLM-PD: REVENGE WAS INEVITABLE:

“I was captivated immediately. The characters are fleshed out (we all know a KJ and a Queen) the fast pace keeps you engaged all the way through and—without giving away anything—it’s satisfying to see karma in action."

“BLM-PD is a page turner! Great characters, vivid visuals & writing that brings emotions. Love the book and the fact that it also provides real-life examples of what is happening in our world today. LOVE the female perspective through leadership, intelligence, resilience, friendship & power."


"This book [BLM-PD] kept me engaged from the very start to the very end. It left me wanting more.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664153783

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 by Myron J. Clifton.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 01/20/2021

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

PART ONE

Monuments

The History of the Civil War Reenactment

Big Bob’s Center City Circus

Well Rounded and Unbought

This Is Your Heritage Too

Number One Nigga

The Letter

Meet New People, Make New Enemies

We Are Letting Most of You Go

Church Meeting

Internet Made Easy — IME

Admire Is Too Strong

Remain Pure and Submit

Big Bob Makes a Deal

Who Wants to Please a Billionaire?

Fair Not Fear

Live Fire

Just Cause

Meeting at BLM

You Are Invited and We Are Going

Call Me Frank

Let’s Go Together

Goodbye

The Answer No Is Just Yes to a Different Question

Inventory

Busboy

Bonuses

The Whitest Black Person

Unregistered and Untrackable

Playing Dress Up

Cargo

Sisters

Where’s Missy?

On the Inside

A Side of Blood

An SUV and One Eye

The Opposite of Oedipus

Superhero Delusions

PART TWO

Almost There

Catch the Bus

It Rolls Down Hill

Big Bob Ain’t Happy

I Remember My Friends

The Story Everyone Is Talking About

Opening Night

Karen Anne’s Devotion

Errand Boy

A Drive to Jefferson

Bunkmates

Proud Paul

Why Wait

Onyx in Snow

Delivery Boy

Pastor Forrest’s Confessional

Consequences and Babysitters

The Battle of Jefferson Park

Drinks, Compliments, & Introductions

I Will Take My Stand

Bossy Bitch

Night Stroll

Another Night Stroller

Stalling and Straddling

Replica Statues

Passing in the Twilight

A Bit Creepy and Disturbed

It Is a Big Day, Look Sharp

Tall Mari

J.E.B. Stuart

Girl Talk

Stonewall Jackson

Trust Your Instincts

It’s On!

Cute People Die Too

Second Wind

Shockwaves

Beastmode

Fox Hunting

Foxhole

Better off on Plantations

Blast Zone

A Bird’s Eye View

Shield for God

More than Powerful

Action in the Center Ring

Missy and Jenn Reach Mount Rushmore

Mika and Mari, at Stone Mountain

Paul Seeks Missy

Be Twice as Good

Paul’s Move

Fourteen Years to Carve

Unrequited Friendship

Frank Bags a Big One

Left Behind

Last Laugh

Animal Trapped

Harriet Tubman

Warm Blood

Two Weeks Later

Radio News

The Politician and the Pins

Afterword

Acknowledgements

Notes

PART ONE

Monuments

Matthew watched the truck back into the loading dock. It was the fourth and final truck bringing the metal frames for replica monuments that would be used at the upcoming Civil War reenactment — taking place in California, of all places.

Matthew waited until the truck stopped, then met the driver as he jumped down from the truck.

The man looked tired.

Long drive? Matthew asked, taking the folder from the driver’s large hands.

Fuck yeah. This is the last one, and I am glad it is. Those bastards in Detroit are fucking demanding. Hell, I made good time and they are still pissed and threatening to dock my pay. Sorry to hear that, Matthew said.

Gary. I’m Gary. And that damn factory up there and the owner are grade-A assholes.

Well, Gary, you made it. Our little foundry here already finished a few of the monuments and will finish the remainder in the next week. Like you, they are working our asses fourteen hours a day trying to get these things done and then shipped West in time for the start of that damn event.

Oh, I know, I am one of the truckers already contracted to drive. For all their complaining, they like me because I am independent, and I don’t mind speeding and passing by a few checkpoints here and there. And besides, I have family in California, so I always get through the border checkpoints fairly easily compared to some other drivers. Gary lit a cigarette.

Sounds good, Gary. Well, everything checks out. Our guys will unload, and they should be done in thirty minutes or so… . Matthew watched Gary check his tablet and wasn’t certain he was even listening.

Okay, well, I’m going inside, you can wait out here or inside. Just don’t go beyond the yellow line on the floor, please.

Shit, I’m not going in there. It is hotter in there than it is out here. I will wait in my truck. Just bang the side when you boys are finished. With that, Gary climbed back into his truck.

Walking back into the foundry, Matthew could finally see the end of the process. They’d been working nonstop on the monuments for three weeks. The guy who ordered them, Bob Packingham — had put the fear of god in the foundry’s owner to deliver every single one of them in time for the event.

But Matthew wasn’t thrilled about it. First of all, the order came in really late, second of all, the monuments were replicas of Civil War generals, Mount Rushmore, and Stone Mountain, and Matthew just shook his head every time he had to listen to coworkers expound on how great it was to be building these pieces for some Confederate commemoration.

Being the only Black worker in the foundry and the only worker who didn’t worship at the feet of the Confederacy was not what he would have wished for, but then again, the pay was decent, so he just ignored the comments, kept his head down, and got his job done.

I won’t waste my time trying to convince those rednecks the truth about the Civil War.

He knew he had achieved a sort of mental truce about white folks’ Civil War lie. There are flareups of fighting, taking monuments down and things like that, of course. But overall, they seem to be satiated if they can have the comfort of the lie in their lives somehow, some way.

Let them, if it will keep the peace, Matthew thought.

After the unloading was done, Matthew banged on the truck and waved to Gary who started the truck and then slowly drove away.

There’s not too much danger in making replica monuments, Matthew said matter-of-factly as he turned away and went back to work.

The History of the Civil

War Reenactment

Though some details have been lost to history, we know that the first official Civil War reenactment took place in 1913 to commemorate the fifty- year anniversary of the conclusion of the Civil War. It started as a true reunion, a commemoration of what had been, up to that point, the defining event in America: The Civil War, or The War for Enslaved People’s Emancipation as some Black Americans still refer to it.

The Great Reunion, as the event was then called, welcomed over fifty- thousand people to Gettysburg to remember the war that had shattered America, created dual presidencies, broke up families and, most importantly, finally forced America to confront what it was most known for then and now: the institution of Slavery and the enslavement of hundreds of thousands of Africans and millions of their descendants.

It was the first Civil War reenactment event and the only one that reunited actual Civil War veterans. Attendees included Union and Confederate soldiers, government dignitaries, celebrities, and the families of people killed in the war.

There were speeches and music, but most of the day was spent listening to some of the last living Civil War veterans tell stories of the many battles that defined the war. The stories were well received by the audience of civilians who learned much from the details that the veterans shared.

The fifty-year anniversary reenactment event mirrored smaller reenactments that had been taking place while the war was still raging, as Northern cities held events, called shams or mock battles to share Union victories and to help prepare young men for war. Some of the battles focused on reenacting the Revolutionary War as often as the ongoing Civil War.

Henry W. Grady, a newspaper editor in Georgia, addressed one group of reenactors, proclaiming the sham battle a symbol of the imperishable union of American hearts, and of the indissoluble union of American states, now and forevermore.¹ At the same time, the Confederate veterans were allowed to win, setting the stage for future reenactments which follow the same script.

Sham battles have long been a part of society. For instance, the Romans had held large spectacles illustrating the wars the military was conducting in far away lands, going so far as to even fill one of their stadiums with water so they could retell naval victories.

Though there are some stories of smaller reunions happening in the years that followed, most of the larger reunions had stopped over the next fifty years, and by the time the hundred-year anniversary of the Civil War approached, that war had faded into history. Americans, of course, began to commemorate World Wars I and II, while engaged in military events all over the world.

In the 1960s the confluence of the Civil Rights movement, social uprisings, war, and the one-hundredth anniversary of the Civil War, incentivized certain historians and veterans’ relatives to again hold a reunion of the event. By this time, there were small gatherings of men who brought historic weapons, stories handed down through families and churches, and collectors who recreated authentic Confederate and Union uniforms that they wore to the gatherings.

In the years that followed the 1965 one-hundred-year anniversary, people who had attended the event continued the annual gatherings but focused them on battles that had occurred in or near their cities, drawing a few thousand to each event. Within ten years, there were dozens of reenactments across the South and a few in the North and Western states.

As with the resurgence in the 1960s, in the Reagan 1980s, the growth of the reenactment appeared to be a direct reaction to social uprisings in general, and Black ascendancy specifically. Unlike the first reenactment, which had featured quiet retellings of battles that reflected the horror of war and honored all combatants, from the 1960s on the events were exclusively designed around white power and remembering the great cause so that the same mistakes would not be made in the next Civil War.

Though the reunions highlighted the uniforms, period clothing, language, food, and jobs, most attention was focused on the weapons — rifles, guns, cannons, knives, and even longswords. The events had always had almost all white attendees though they professed to be open to anyone. And to show the truth of their statements there were even invitations sent to Black people who could trace their family to Civil War soldiers, or helpers as the invitations referred to slaves.

The reenactment participants remained mostly white except for a few vendors and security guards. There were active attempts to hire Black workers to showcase the inclusiveness of the events so that when photographs were sent to the newswires they included Black faces in background pictures.

The events also began harboring growing anti-government, anti-immigrant, anti-lgbqti, anti-Jewish and, most of all, anti-Black individuals and groups. In short, the events became gatherings of white nationalists who longed for white supremacy of the type early white Americans forced on Black people.

By the 1980s and 1990s, reenactment events were being held in about thirty states, and the 135th anniversary event was attended by ten- thousand people and watched by over fifty thousand. There were still few Black attendees and there were no Black vendors or sponsors.

In New York though, an African American reenactment group was formed to recreate both Revolutionary and Civil War regiments. The group, called the New York Regiment United States Colored Troops Reenactors — New York 26th U.S.C.T. — attends reenactment events and parades to represent the over four-thousand free Black soldiers from the New York area who fought in one or the other of the wars.

The founder, Ludger Balan, is quoted as saying: It was tough to get people interested when they still saw themselves as second-class citizens, but our work is to bring the African American experience to reenactment events.²

The few Black attendees to the larger events were often sociology professors studying the event. One who spoke on record was Dr. Andrews, who said he was Conducting interviews that focused on ‘Thoughts on race in general, emancipation, heritage, and general thoughts on current racial events.’

The events maintained 1990 levels into the early 2000s before brief declines started. Attendance began rising again after the election of Barack Obama and then again with the explosive 2020 election, and then the next elections drove attendance past one-hundred thousand for the anniversary and tens of thousands for the regional events that happened in the months leading up to the national reenactment event.

By the late 2020s, the reenactment events had spread to twenty countries, in addition to all fifty states, and soon grew into such high-profile events that white politicians, local authorities, athletes, social media influencers, and local business owners felt obligated to attend. The one thing organizers still strove for was a major corporate sponsor and some high-profile executives. But no major corporation would be the first.

There were, of course, protests from the public. But there was strict enforcement by authorities as well as intimidation from militia groups, who prevented protesters from being in the parks where the reenactments were taking place. Outside the gates, violence against protesters was common. But inside, through the years, there were few recorded instances of violence, other than fist fights and drunken brawls. The reenactment events had mostly been violence free.

Big Bob’s Center City Circus

The heat and humidity were at their peak and no one cared. The sun was out and the colorful banners — all red, white, and blue, and representing the Confederacy — were prominently hanging from the vendor tables, hunting blinds, AKA spectator stands, visitor tents, water stations, and even the portable toilets.

Participants were happy and proud to be part of the Center City Civil War Reenactment — one of the oldest local reenactment events in the country, famous for starting just fifteen years after The Great Reunion of 1913.

Bob Big Bob Packingham surveyed the battlefield with binoculars that had small Confederate flags stickers on each side. The battles were winding down and every year Big Bob liked to take one final look at the rich visuals the event produced: The women dressed in era-appropriate clothing, with lovely bonnets. The children dirty and playful. He saw the bannermen, infantry, lieutenants, and generals all dressed up and fully in character and into their roles.

Big Bob looked toward the nurse’s stations and tents and the lovely ladies were as busy as ever. The weapons’ caretakers, drummers, reporters, and the laborers who tagged along cleaning up and bringing up the rear were also busy and looking like they were having a good time.

Big Bob lingered on the whores who also were stationed near the rear of the camp, in proper dress that mostly showed cleavage and nothing else. Big Bob was pleased that he was able to convince one of the local high schools to ask their cheerleaders to be the whores. A few objected, but Big Bob won them over by paying for new cheerleading uniforms, and with the encouragement of the principal, cheer coach, and their parents, the girls agreed. And everyone was happy. Big Bob was convinced he had started a new tradition that would help the event continue to grow.

Bob looked at the Northern Union soldiers in retreat and he chuckled with pride.

Those cowardly agitators getting what’s due to them.

Big Bob waved at familiar faces, smiled at others at a distance, and silently counted the money he would make off this event.

As he watched, one of the local vendors was talking about how he was selling out of small Confederate flags and bumper stickers. Just about the only thing he had left were nostalgic instant photographs from his portable photography station. The old fashioned photobooths were still used as novelty money-makers at fairs, carnivals, and special events.

As a child, Robert Packingham, AKA Big Bob, was a participant in the Center City Civil War Reenactment. But, as he grew into an adult, he saw participation flounder, which he attributed partially to the fact that the local events weren’t officially recognized by the national Civil War reenactment sanctioning body. He also saw it as the national organizations’ weakness against a loud politically correct attempt to erase history. This was irksome.

So irksome, in fact, that many years ago, while he was still quite young, Big Bob took it upon himself to take ownership of the reenactment event. Once he did, he brought his great-great grandfather’s Bible to the sanctioning body. The book was a beautiful piece of history, and contained a two-page description of the historic event and listed the names of twenty-three townsfolk who participated in the original event.

The national committee latched on to the well-preserved historic record and used it as a reason to sanction not only this local event, but other local events, many of them started in the 1960s — the centennial of the Civil War. Big Bob’s Bible became the touchstone for historical preservationists. Too many people had decided that these local events were only a reaction to the Civil Rights movement, with no basis in history, and the national committee had never been able to persuade people they were wrong.

Once the event was sanctioned, and his clear record of Civil War history had been unearthed and spread like wildfire around social media, Big Bob took over, began advertising it locally and throughout the state as the Original Civil War Reenactment event.

Big Bob was the only one who knew that the historic Bible had not actually contained any details of a Civil War reenactment when he found it; but, it had two blank pages. He had spent the following year painstakingly researching area history to get local names and their birth and death dates and learn to plagiarize his great-great-grandfather’s writing that was on the inside cover of the old Bible. The paper was already aged so he just needed the ink to match the aged paper. A used dry tea bag and coffee did the trick.

Big Bob used a water bottle spritzer so that after he wrote the names in the old Bible, he wiped the names with the dried tea bag and then lightly and at a slight distance he sprayed the page with the coffee. Big Bob let the pages dry for a week, and then repeated the spray process three more times over the course of a few months. Once he was done, he left the Bible out near his bedroom window where it would catch the afternoon sun every day. A few months later, Big Bob had an authentic list of names who attended a hereto fore unknown but first Civil War reenactment.

It was worth every bit of effort. Soon, interest in the historic re- enactment was so high that Big Bob rented the county fairgrounds to host the event that up to that point would have only needed about a quarter of the fairgrounds. The change brought immediate attention and growth and income. It was like striking gold.

Big Bob looked around at the vendor tables and, per his instructions, no one was packing up early. Big Bob made it mandatory that vendors were the last to leave so the participants could also shop once the event ended Sunday afternoon.

The one thing his events never seem to have enough of is Black folk, a notable deviation from historical accuracy, and a mixed blessing for sure. At least he didn’t have to deal with their whiney black asses.

Big Bob retired to his tent, pleased with the weekend overall and extremely pleased with the haul of money. It was the most profitable reenactment ever and Big Bob was fast becoming recognized nationally for his organizational skills and ability to turn a profit.

|||

Big Bob, I hope you have clothes on. Pastor Forrest stepped into the tent smiling at his own words.

I will be naked later but for now I just need to have a seat.

Big Bob sat on his raised bed — really, only a cot with an extra foam cushion that Big Bob would not sleep without since injuring his back some years ago on a hunting trip.

The tall pastor with salt and pepper hair stayed standing at the door of the tent. You did a great job, Big Bob. I am confident our event in California is in good hands. The best hands.

Thank you, Pastor. I aim to make it historical, that’s for certain.

You will, Big Bob. Of that I am certain. There is one thing I wonder about, though. The event would be a lot more authentic with some more African-American faces in the crowd. Are you doing anything to get these numbers up?

Funny you should say that, Pastor. I was just thinking the same thing. I’m not sure there’s anything that can be done on that front.

A true shame. True shame. Well, I will be in touch. Don’t be quiet if you need anything. God bless you, Big Bob.

Pastor Forrest walked into the tent to shake Big Bob’s hand, and then left.

Big Bob could hear the music through his tent and the rustle and bustle of vendors packing up, along with the nonstop chatter of workers laughing and shouting orders.

Big Bob loved the sound of a successful weekend. And he was relieved that Pastor Forrest was satisfied. He was helping legitimize his events and secure that corporate sponsor he needed to pull it off.

He took off his cowboy boots and kicked his feet up. He thought he would stay an extra two nights to make sure his hired hands cleaned up like they were paid to do. But he also wanted to relax before going home because he knew that as soon as he got home, he needed to prepare for the national reenactment which was a little over a month away.

Big Bob exhaled. A little over a month. Damn. I’m exhausted.

Big Bob leaned over and picked up his duffel bag, deftly unlocking the digital lock with his thumb and forefinger. Once it was unlocked Big Bob slipped his hand in and pulled out a glove, oil, and a two hand towels.

Big Bob touched the clear screen of his computer, touched the website thumbnail, touched it again, and instantly the full screen showed a live view of a bedroom.

Big Bob stared at the screen until a woman entered the room and approached the camera.

Big Bobby! The woman said to the screen.

Big Bob is here and I am tired, baby. Real tired. Show me what you got, Big Bob began pulling his pants down.

I will show you everything, Big Bob. But first you show me Big Little Bob.

Bob was fully naked and erect now. His small micropenis barely visible.

Oh, there it is and it’s ready for me! the woman said.

Big Bob grabbed his penis and smiled. Mika knew how to make him feel good. He had tried different women for years and none made him feel like Mika. Big Bob liked that Mika did not seem to mind his small penis even the first time she saw it, unlike every other woman he had ever tried to have sex with on livestream or in person.

Big Bob had only tried to have sex in person one time and the results were disastrous because he could not get an erection after his girlfriend tried to touch it. Big Bob pulled away and though she tried to continue, Big Bob knew she was just mocking him. It was a few years before Big Bob discovered the advantages of online sex and it took only about ten attempts before he was blessed enough to find Mika.

Big Bob liked how Mika had a gentle voice, talked to him and not at him, and was not shy about showing her body and talking about what she did not like about her body. After just a few sessions Big Bob opened up about his micropenis and Mika did not skip a beat and immediately began talking about her left boob being smaller and firmer than her right boob. Big Bob laughed recalling how Mika pressed her boobs to the camera while trying to explain to him how one was smaller.

Soon Big Bob was paying for Mika to masturbate and soon after that she convinced Big Bob to do the same. It took almost fifteen sessions after that before he could ejaculate while on screen with her, but once he did, he never looked back. And Mika clapped and screamed in joy and delight when it happened. Big Bob was a little embarrassed, but Mika would not