We looked in a trunk in Mrs. Shegog's attic, and it was filled with things that belonged to her great-great grandfather, Nathaniel Wallace Shegog.
His uniform and a tattered Confederate flag were in there, along with some papers and other stuff.
Among his papers, we found a book that looks like the general's journal.
Below are some messages we found scrawled in the notebook amid battle plans and some boring letters to other generals.
Fire! Fire! Oh, Fie!
Draw their fire! Suck them tumbling and screaming into the dank, green earth, where the redness and blackness of death awaits them in a fire storm of bloody rebuke! Quench their savagery with a taste of bitter hell!
Lure them underground to steal their riches and spark them with a flare from the cannon's devilish grin. A shortcut to hell. I am no man's slave, but a servant to dastardly passions.
Biding in the bunker below my abode, I plot my takeover daily. One gets comfortable nestled in the dirty womb of the planet. I could curl up and die in a place like this.