The Appalachian Chronicles: Shades of Gray

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The Appalachian Chronicles: Shades of Gray Page 9

by Seneca Fox


  Chapter VIII

  4:45 pm

  When we finished eating dinner Max went to move our clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. Stuffed and too uncomfortable to just sit, I asked Owen if I could walk outside in his son’s uniform.

  “Sure,” he said. “He won’t wear it anymore.”

  After putting on a clean pair of socks and my hiking boots, I stepped outside into a festive atmosphere. It was late afternoon and sunlight spotted the decaying pine needles that covered the spectator’s camping area. There were still several hours of daylight left, and a few people dressed in Civil War period clothes and many dressed in modern attire were wandering about. Others were sitting in lounge chairs around little campfires or gas grills, eating and drinking and talking.

  Feeling the need to walk, I wandered toward the sutlers’ village. This time I was not interested in books; instead I was interested in learning more about uniforms and accessories. There were two sutlers selling everything from Civil War period civilian clothes to period uniforms. A variety of accessories ranging from handkerchiefs to bayonets to Civil War flags were also on display. A few peeks at price tags confirmed what I had been told; one could invest a lot of money in period clothing and accessories. While I stood comparing the cost between hats a clerk approached me and said, “The one in your left hand is the most popular.”

  “This one,” I said as I held out my left hand and set the cap in my right hand back on the table.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It’s a good value. The material is a wool and synthetic blend. So it has an authentic appearance and feel, yet the polyester makes it durable. Also, the brim is one hundred percent hand-tooled leather. Everything is double stitched – by hand.”

  “How much?” I asked, pretending I was interested.

  “Seventy-nine.”

  “Do you have one that costs less?”

  “Yes, the one you set down over there.” He pointed to the cap I had laid back on the table. “It’s forty-nine dollars.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “The material in that one is synthetic and the leather is of a lower quality. It’s okay, although most reenactors don’t use them. The material gets little thread-balls on it when it gets worn.”

  “Thread-balls?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “But I don’t know what else to call them. Have you ever owned a polyester sweater?”

  “Ah yes,” I said. “I know what you mean.” Then I asked, “Do you have a Union cap like it?”

  “Yes we do,” answered the clerk.

  “Same price?”

  “Yes.”

  I reached my hand back to where a pocket would be; and, although I knew I didn’t have my wallet, I said, “Darn, I didn’t bring my wallet. What time do you close?”

  “We start packing up for the evening around six.”

  “What time is it now?”

  The clerk looked at his watch and said, “Almost five.”

  “Good. If you don’t mind I’ll look around some more.”

  “That’s fine. Can I help you with anything else?”

  “No thanks,” I replied. Then I asked, “Are you open in the morning?”

  “Yes. We start setting up at six.”

  “Six?”

  “We do a good business in the mornings before the battles start.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” he responded.

  I looked around at the flags on display and was surprised to see how many different varieties were used during the Civil War. There seemed to be one for each state and a seemingly endless number of other banners and pennons representing the many different regiments and battalions. I recognized only a few and noticed that most consisted of a combination of red and white stripes with blue fields dotted with stars. The numbers and patterns of stars were inconsistent from flag to flag. There were several that had two wide red stripes with a single white stripe sandwiched between. Most of the flags were rectangular but some were square and others were triangular. There were numerous symbols on the flags including eagles and shields, clovers and palm trees and anchors and cannons.

  Among all the flags were two that stood out. Larger than many of the others, they were not hanging on racks; instead they were mounted on poles and standing upright at opposite corners of the awning overhanging the sutler’s store. I walked over to the Confederate battle flag and took it in my hand. It must have been five feet across. I stroked the smooth material; it resembled silk, but I recognized it as finely woven polyester that had a silky sheen. The blue bars were a deep dark blue and the red field was rich, almost luminescent. Unlike other Confederate battle flags that I had seen flying elsewhere this one was new, not faded from an overexposure of cheap dyes to relentless sunlight. The stars were embroidered, not pieces of cloth sewn into place, and the flag was mounted on the polyurethane-coated hardwood pole with brass grommets and screw-eyes. This was a nice piece of craftsmanship – obviously intended for the serious Civil War enthusiast. I took the tag in my hand and read it.

  Confederate Battle Flag

  “Southern Cross”

  Made by

  Lufkin’s Period Flags and Clothing

  In the lower right-hand corner of the tag was the price. “Wow,” I said quietly. I held the flag up by one corner and admired its vibrant colors; then I let it fall and decided to continue walking. My stomach was still full from the chili.

 

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