A Flag, on a Hill

A Flag, on a Hill

By Bill Whittle

National Review

Phillip Sheridan was his name, described by Shelby Foote as a man with the face of a Mongol warlord and hair so short and dense it made his head look like a bullet with a coat of black paint.

You bet it was.

His men were not beaten. They just needed leadership.

It has been a source of delight for me these past few days to see nothing but evidence of this, all across our defeated lines. Nowhere have I heard a shred of defeatism or despair. On the contrary. In point of fact, the magnanimity and graciousness I have seen in defeat in so many places on the right tells me that this is an eager and seasoned army, one able to look defeat in the face and own up to the errors in tactics and strategy that got us there. And nowhere do I see a call to abandon our core principles and sue for terms, but rather that our loss was caused precisely by our abandonment of the issues which we hold dear and which have served us so well on battlefields past.

Yielded a result of 53 percent.

Folks, we are going to lick these people out of their boots.

And then we will begin, with a confident and happy heart, to examine how we have failed the American people in regard to making clear the moral and philosophical underpinnings of our philosophy. For anyone that fully understands these philosophies, presented calmly and with wit and humility, will come to our side and never leave.

We have tried, and failed. Tomorrow we will try again.

How can we lose, my friends? How can we lose, unless we give up?