There was a reason why we called him “Unconditional Surrender” Grant. Most people tell it like he was some kind of saint, fighting for the safety and security of Old Glory. Anyone tells you that story, they sure as hell weren’t there.

It was picture-perfect, that day. The journo cams caught every second of it, but you’d be surprised just how fast they can edit the blood and gore and fear of battlefield into a sanitized documentary.

The part they never show anyone is General Grant, Unconditional Surrender himself, hauling a midshipman out of his seat, mashing the levers and switches, heaving the Vindicator back and forth in the wind. They never play you the Jefferson casettes where you can hear Grant hollering over the screams of the dying men, Confederates and Union men alike.

He raked that battlefield with the impact drivers, ordered us into the breach, fired ordnance as fast as he could print it. He was stark raving mad with fear. Call it bravery if you like, but I call it a bloody waste.