"They didn't ask us to vote any, but if they had—in war-time—I guess we'd have voted the same way. If you can't get it you don't want it, and we've kind of got used to water now. And so your name's Jackson? Any relation?"
Jackson's brain worked at high pressure. This was a poser. Sir Henry Jackson? Stonewall? How many noted Jacksons were there? He played for safety and replied with a negative.
"Ah, well! there's perhaps some connection you don't know of," said the Commander encouragingly. "Which part of England are your folk from? Birmingham. Well, of course, it's a big family.... My father knew him well, and was with him through the Valley Campaign."
Jackson sighed with relief. "You're from Virginia then, sir?"
"No, sir—I'm from Maryland. My father joined the Army of Virginia two days before Bull Run."
"Are you all Southerners here, then?"
"We're sure not," came a chorus of voices. "Nix on Secesh ... John Brown's Body...." Jackson developed nerves again. He felt as if he had asked a Nationalist meeting to join him in drinking confusion to the Pope. The company did not seem disposed to let him off, however.
"Which do you think ought to have won, Lootenant? You were neutral—let's hear it."
Jackson looked apologetically at the Commander.
"Well, sir, I think the North had to win; and" (he hurried on) "it's just as well she did, because if she hadn't there wouldn't be any U.S.A. now—only a lot of small states."