Decoration Day was alwaya a big event in my hometown of Brazil, Indiana. We may call it Memorial Day now, but by either name, the idea was the same to honor those fallen in service of their country. In the '20s, we celebrated each Decoration Day with a splendid parade...and I still remember them well! The grand marahal was always Colonel Houaton "Howzie" Johnson. Resplendent in a Spanish-American War uniform, he led the parade on a high-stepping saddle horse. Immediately behind came the Brazil High School Band, decked out in red jackets and white pants. Following the band was the newly formed post of the American Legion. In khaki uniforms with broad-brimmed hat, choker collars and wraparound leggings, those World War I veterans marched smartly along in perfect cadence. Behind them, walking instead of marching, came a smaller squad of veterans from the Spanish-American War. Next came the real stars of the day: eight or 10 veterans of the Civil War--some of the last surviving members of the Grand Army of the Republic! Soldiers Rode in Style These old bearded soldiers didn't walk--they rode in open touring cars provided by the local Chevrolet dealer. My grandpa was part of this important group, and that made me proud. I know the rest of those men, too, because I delivered the Indianapolis News to their front porches 6 days a week. Another of my customers, Mr. Ed Smith, was the same age as those "old soldiers" and one year it occurred to me while watching the parade that he must have fought in the Civil War, too. Why wasn't he riding with the others? Mr. Smith lived just a block from my grandparents. Every Saturday when I stopped to collect for my newspaper deliveries, he had his dime and two pennies ready. And he always had a smile for me, too. After the parade, I asked my mother about him. She hesitated for a moment and then said, "Well, Mr. Smith was a Confederate...maybe your grandfather can explain it better than I can. When I asked Grandpa why Mr. Smith didn't ride in the parade, his eyebrows went up. "Because he was a Johnny Reb--he was the enemy." "But he's our neighbor," I said. "And I like him. Is he still the enemy?" A Good Question Grandpa stroked his beard for a long time. Then he said. "I guess he's not the enemy anymore. That war ended a long time ago." Smiling, Grandpa added, "I'll talk to the comrades about inviting your friend to ride with us next year." Weeks later, Grandpa spoke to me again. "I told some of the comrades what you said about Mr. Smith, and they figured you made a good point he is our neighbor, not the enemy. "So a couple of us went to see Mr. Smith and invited him to next year's parade. We even offered to let him hold the Confederate flag if he wanted to. "Well, he seemed pleased. But then he smiled and said, 'No, thank you'." Grandpa shrugged. That seemed to be the end of thc matter. But the next Saturday when I stopped to collect from Mr. Smith, he handed me his 12 cents wrapped in a dollar bill! He patted me on the shoulder and said, "You're a good boy, and I thank you." That was the most I'd ever heard him say, and the words made me swell with pride. Looking back almost 70 years now, only one thing might have made that moment any better: if Mr. Smith had tipped me with a Confederate dollar! Back to The Zouave Vol VII No. 4 Table of Contents Back to The Zouave List of Issues Back to Master Magazine List © Copyright 1993 The American Civil War Society This article appears in MagWeb (Magazine Web) on the Internet World Wide Web. Other military history articles and gaming articles are available at http://www.magweb.com