Lindsey Graham

The victorious Union Army marched proudly from the Capitol to the White House, past thousands of cheering, flag-waving spectators. And in the days that followed, most of the soldiers would muster out of the Army and return to civilian life. But the troops who marched down Pennsylvania Avenue that day were nearly all white.

The victorious Union Army marched proudly from the Capitol to the White House, past thousands of cheering, flag-waving spectators. And in the days that followed, most of the soldiers would muster out of the Army and return to civilian life. But the troops who marched down Pennsylvania Avenue that day were nearly all white.

The black soldiers who helped carry the Union to victory were nowhere to be seen because most of them were still on active duty across the South. They would soon find themselves waging a new war. Imagine it's June 1865 in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. It's a hot, humid evening, and your uniform clings to your skin.

The black soldiers who helped carry the Union to victory were nowhere to be seen because most of them were still on active duty across the South. They would soon find themselves waging a new war. Imagine it's June 1865 in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. It's a hot, humid evening, and your uniform clings to your skin.

The black soldiers who helped carry the Union to victory were nowhere to be seen because most of them were still on active duty across the South. They would soon find themselves waging a new war. Imagine it's June 1865 in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. It's a hot, humid evening, and your uniform clings to your skin.

You're a sergeant in the United States Colored Troops, charged with keeping the peace in Baton Rouge in the aftermath of the war. After a long day on patrol, you and five soldiers in your unit walk into a small bar tucked away on a dusty side street. You blink, your eyes adjusting to the dim light inside. The other patrons stare at you as you and your fellow soldiers step up to the bar.

You're a sergeant in the United States Colored Troops, charged with keeping the peace in Baton Rouge in the aftermath of the war. After a long day on patrol, you and five soldiers in your unit walk into a small bar tucked away on a dusty side street. You blink, your eyes adjusting to the dim light inside. The other patrons stare at you as you and your fellow soldiers step up to the bar.

You're a sergeant in the United States Colored Troops, charged with keeping the peace in Baton Rouge in the aftermath of the war. After a long day on patrol, you and five soldiers in your unit walk into a small bar tucked away on a dusty side street. You blink, your eyes adjusting to the dim light inside. The other patrons stare at you as you and your fellow soldiers step up to the bar.

Six beers, please. The bartender, a white man in his fifties, looks up from the glass he's cleaning. He narrows his eyes.

Six beers, please. The bartender, a white man in his fifties, looks up from the glass he's cleaning. He narrows his eyes.

Six beers, please. The bartender, a white man in his fifties, looks up from the glass he's cleaning. He narrows his eyes.

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to keep your cool.

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to keep your cool.

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to keep your cool.

He slams a glass down on the bar and the room falls silent.

He slams a glass down on the bar and the room falls silent.

He slams a glass down on the bar and the room falls silent.

The bar erupts in applause. Your men shift uneasily beside you and your muscles tense.

The bar erupts in applause. Your men shift uneasily beside you and your muscles tense.

The bar erupts in applause. Your men shift uneasily beside you and your muscles tense.