““Let's go down there!" She was pointing to a flat stretch on the other side of the hill where along the green turf were a thousand grayish-white crosses stretching in endless, ordered rows like the stacked arms of a battalion. "Those are the Confederate dead," said Sally Carrol simply. They walked along and read the inscriptions, always only a name and a date, sometimes quite indecipherable. "The last row is the saddest—see, 'way over there. Every cross has just a date on it and the word 'Unknown.'" She looked at him and her eyes brimmed with tears. "I can't tell you how real””
