DIXIELAND - Extract

 

Standing up, facing the children, the gangly Jason Willard, the teacher-in-charge, wafted his right hand towards the hydraulically-opening door on the left-hand side, and yelled, “Okay, kids, debus and then form up in an orderly line!”

At that signal, the twenty-eight-year-old Katarina rose to her feet and alighted, she still getting use to the fact that motor vehicles in North America have their steering wheels on the right. Counting that all twenty-one junior high school students had done as instructed, Katarina nodded confirmation to Jason, and Rosemary Browne, the other teacher with the group, before saying in her Germanic accented English, “Zat is good, children. Now, follow Mr Willard, ja.”

The crocodile of kids walked purposefully along the broad concrete pathway, Becoming nearly as excited as some of the children obviously were, Katarina scanned around, taking in the green vistas of the landscape, it dotted with copses, specimen trees and small woods. Ascending the wide stone steps to the front terrace, the exchange teacher from the Third Reich got her first good view of the building they had all come to see.

The Greater German Empire, which covers much of Northern and Eastern Europe, is to this day still simply referred to by many as the Third Reich. Although, under the current Fuehrer, The Reich is becoming a limited democracy the race laws are still strict, it therefore something of a novelty for Katarina to see blacks and Jews amongst the crowds heading to the pavilion.  

Of course, she had seen many fine buildings back in the Fatherland but she still thought that this one was quite amazing. The long hierarchical structure with flat-profile roofs was constructed of dark-chocolate-coloured bricks with white-stone embellishments, at the corners, about the windows and the entrance.

Lining the parapet of the terrace, each side of the top step, were a row of 19^th Century black-barrelled guns – 7-inch Armstrong Rifles – the placard declared. Directly ahead was a line of fourteen tall flagpoles, each of which carried a giant-sized fluttering Confederate States of America national flag. Katarina was well aware that although there were actually fourteen states in the current Confederacy there was but thirteen stars upon the blue-cross flag – for symmetry. The centre one was however twice the size of the others, it having to be counted twice.

The entrance was located midway along the length of the building, the party soon filing in, quickly forming a semi-circle a little way over to the right. Jason Willard went to report to the reception desk, returning accompanied by a female soldier dressed in a smart grey uniform.

“This is First Sergeant Priscilla Langley, she will be our guide this morning,” Jason said, flourishing his hand towards the middle-aged woman. “So, over to you, Priscilla.”

Whilst he had been speaking, the flaxen-haired Katarina could not help herself, she taking the opportunity to gaze about, at the architecture, the arched glass roof, at the rows of bronze statues that stood upon the black and white checkerboard marble floor.

“Good morning, children,” Priscilla said, causing the epitome of the Aryan race to give her undivided attention.

“Good morning, Ma’am,” the children duly chorused.

Confederate children were always far more polite than those Yankee brats from over the border, Katarina thought. She was thankful that she had chosen to do her exchange year at Charlotte rather than in one of the United States of America’s educational establishments that had also been on offer.

“Welcome to the National Memorial Pavilion which commemorates the War of Secession and all the heroes and heroines that helped liberate the Confederate States of America from their Yankee oppressors,” Priscilla said.

As Katarina knew, the Confederate States of America is one of the worlds five great powers – the others being, Germany, of course; Japan; Great Britain; and the United States of America. But, despite their independence, the people in the CSA still look upon those in the USA with a good measure of resentment, mistrust and disdain. 

Priscilla continued her opening remarks, “This building was opened on April 12^th 1871 to mark the tenth anniversary of the start of that war. It is actually a copy of the design of the famous Crystal Palace that was a structure put up for the Great Exhibition twenty years earlier in London, England, except this one is made from brick and stone as well as iron and glass.

It is eighteen hundred and fifty-one feet long, four hundred and fifty-six feet wide, and one hundred and twenty-eight feet high. The transept, as this part where we are currently standing is called, has a glazed barrel-vaulted roof that is seventy-two feet wide at its base. The top of the arch is actually one hundred and sixty-eight feet above the floor.

As you can see, there is a row of life-sized bronze statues down each side of the transept. These are of the more prominent men and women who helped fight and win the Confederacy’s cause.”

Quite restrained, Katarina thought. The statues, she meant. She was used to seeing those of the Third Reich, all of which were invariably three or four times life-size, particularly those of the men who had so far held the office of Fuehrer.       

“Now, if you will all follow me, I’ll show you where various things are, give you a bit of a talk as we go. Then, after lunch in the refectory, you and your teachers can do your own thing,” Priscilla advised, starting to move, leading the way. “Do feel free to ask me any questions at any time.”

“Ma’am, where is the statue of Robert E Lee?” Thomas Pickett asked, he a distant descendent of one of the War’s heroes.

“He is one of those three statues over there at the very centre of the crossing. We’ll get to see them up closer in a few minutes.” The sergeant did not break her step, she merely wagging her right index finger in the direction of the trio of statues.

They made their way along the first half of the long row of bronze effigies before moving over to, and gathering around, the set of three figures.

“This trio of men are referred to as the Three Pillars of the Confederacy,” Priscilla advised, before asking, “Can anyone name them?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Thomas Pickett was quick to say, his favourite subject being history. “Robert E Lee, Jefferson Davis and James Neil Berkeley, who, my Pa says, was the real saviour of the CSA.”

“You are correct. And, so is your father. Many historians reckon that James Neil Berkeley was the true, some would say, unsung hero of the War of Secession.”

As Priscilla was talking, Katarina wandered closer to the statues, setting about reading the storyboards.

On the one for Robert E Lee, she read his words: “... he [James Neil Berkeley] seemed to possess an uncanny second-sight that enabled the Confederate States to be better able to wage the war. Without him, I do doubt that our Armies could have ever triumphed.”

Upon that board next to Mr Berkeley, part of the information quoted him as saying: “All I did was to assist in the provisions of necessaries. It is to all our generals, all our men, all our womenfolk, that we owe our eternal gratitude.”