Beneath a hand-stitched Confederate flag, Terry Hancock prepared for battle.On this Saturday afternoon, his work as colonel was nearly finished. He’d trained new soldiers, devised field formations and passed combat instructions to captains leading the seven companies in his battalion. He’d buttoned his thick, wool Union uniform, filled his antique canteen and groomed his dark, wiry beard.
Now, Hancock waited to storm Alabama’s Janney Furnace. “Honey, I wish they could see how you normally dress,” said his wife, Amber. “We ain’t Yankees.” She swished up in a plaid, hoop skirt-inflated dress — which is an ordeal to maneuver in the portable toilet, she admitted — and touched his cheek… read on!