With the august manner of a revered leader or war hero, the tall, imposing man stepped from the train to bask in the adulation of a large, enthusiastic crowd. Thousands of white men, women, and children strained to see him, while rambunctious admirers jostled one another to shake his hand and express their gratitude. It was April 1915, a half-century after the terrible swift sword of the Union Army had vanquished the Confederacy and slashed a pathway to freedom for the slaves. But the towering man at the station in Jacksonville, Florida, this spring day had not commanded troops in the Civil War. He had, however, shed his blood in a recent battle of great significance to the nation and its people.