Belvidere

Now Fain embraces Trump's auto tariffs with only modest criticism as to its form and targets, and praises automakers for shifting production to the United States, even when workers in other countries lose their jobs.

Last October, Fane hailed Stellantis' decision to cancel Jeep Compass production planned for Brampton, Ontario, and move it to Belvedere, Illinois, as a victory for American workers.

A recent union white paper proposes one-to-one production-to-sales quotas backed by punitive tariffs, threatening sweeping cuts and layoffs to Mexico's export-oriented auto industry, while offering union officials a role alongside governments and industry in reorganizing North American supply chains.

Years of betrayals have produced an immense accumulation of opposition among rank-and-file workers.

So here's what we know for certain.

On August 6th, 1862, 19-year-old Albert Cashier was a resident of Belvidere, Illinois, and enlisted in the 95th Illinois Infantry.

Like you mentioned earlier, Noel, Albert was known to keep mostly to himself, and the only thing people really called out about or busted chops about with him was that he was the shortest person in the squad.

But he passed the medical exam.

So here's what we know for certain.

On August 6th, 1862, 19-year-old Albert Cashier was a resident of Belvedere, Illinois, and enlisted in the 95th Illinois Infantry.

Like you mentioned earlier, Noel, Albert was known to keep mostly to himself.

And the only thing people really called out about or busted chops about with him was that he was the shortest person in the squad.

Here's where the story turns.

In August 1862, a young Irish immigrant walked into a recruiting office in Belvidere, Illinois, and enlisted in the Ninety-Fifth Illinois Infantry.

Name given, Albert D.J. Cashier.

Height, five foot three.

They came home, as if home was a place they could simply return to, pick up where they left off, resume the lives they'd been living before the drum beat and the flags unfurled.

But the man who came home was not the man who had left.

The boy who had marched out of Columbia, Tennessee, or Jackson, Michigan, or Belvidere, Illinois, with a new uniform and a head full of glory, that boy was gone.

What came back was something else, something with the same face and a different set of eyes, and what it did to them, what it left behind in their bodies and their minds, is something we're still reckoning with.