Having been born and raised in Houston, Texas, I've been to all the ship museums in that great state, visiting the
Texas herself three times. As for the
Alabama, I imagine I'll be going to see her soon; my fiancee - incredible woman that she is - is actually considering the ship's Officer's Wardroom or the Fantail as a wedding venue.
-Matt
Most excellent lady you have found there. Congratulations!
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Thiel and Zephyr,
It isn't about bands playing, or people in uniform, or 'due honors rendered.' It has little to do with my political beliefs, those of the
Hunley's crew, or those of anyone alive either then or today. This is someone coming and digging up your family member's grave and calling it 'archeology.' When Bob Ballard first found
Titanic, this was one of the things he found.
He didn't say 'oh, let's take these back to England and bury them, symbolically returning the dead home.' He didn't try to make a three ring circus out of the event. What he did was respectfully leave well enough alone- even trying to keep the location of the wreck secret to such an extent it could not be plundered... so the owner of those shoes could rest in peace.
Not lost, but found.
Not forgotten, but respectfully remembered.
As a soldier, I can say that there is no dishonor in being buried (more or less) where you fell.
What is so dishonorable about this? These are all Americans, and they lie in the French soil where they died. Now, they weren't left strewn like sticks after a hurricane, but neither were they returned home amidst pomp and circumstance. They remain on eternal guard where they sacrificed their life, a reminder of the price paid for that soil. Neither the soldiers who are there, nor the people who are content to leave them there are done any dishonor. Indeed, I was taught by my Grandfather- who possibly climbed that same hill on his way to Germany- that there were few greater honors a man could earn.
Maybe it's just me... but, then again, maybe it's not:
The Soldier
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
-- Rupert Brooke
And with that, I'll stop totally sidetracking the thread.