Once Upon a History

ROBERT SMALLS - SLAVERY TO CONGRESS - Images of House, Church, Statue

10/24/2016

My race needs no special defense, for the past history of them in this country proves them to be equal of any people anywhere. All they need is an equal chance in the battle of life. ~ Monument quote by Robert Smalls on the last photo of the article.

These pictures and thumbnail bio concerning Robert Smalls are dedicated to a gentleman named Johnnie Propst. Johnnie was an African-American who was very close to us here at the Carolinian's Archives. He passed away last year in his 80s after a long and uncomplaining battle with bone cancer.

Johnnie and Robert Smalls had lot in common. Both were men born into trying conditions that pulled themselves up to dignity and success. Smalls story on how this happened will be explained in the brief bio accompanying the photos; so let's relate Johnnie's story first.

He was born in Carolina about the time the Great Depression began. The child suffered intensely, as did so many others, black and white, during those hardscrabble years. He was to later join the US military and give brave and valuable service in the Korean War. Johnnie then came home and worked and saved until he could have a chance at the middle-class American dream. He was successful. Mr. Propst was a beloved man by all who got to know him. His faith in a higher power of love and his cheerful nature served him well. He simply loved life and people - all people.

He was also very talented (you should have seen the inside of his house, where he collected things, painted and so on.) Not surprising when one considers Denzel Washington was a relative of his. I'm not a tough guy by any means, but like to think I can handle myself fairly well, and I had no shame bending down over his casket while shedding tears, to say fare-thee-well to his spirit and kiss this lovable man's earthly remains good-bye.
.

Home in Beaufort where Smalls resided

THE WORLD ROBERT GREW UP IN IN BEAUFORT, SC
Robert came into the world on April 5, 1839 as a bondsperson in the cabin behind his owner's home. His master's name was Henry McKee.

As a matter of fact, he was born not too long after several countries had legally ended the practice. For several examples: the last Northern state to end it was New Jersey in 1804; France in 1826; and Great Britain in 1833. These places had begun to industrialize but the South had much lower populations than the North and those sea-faring European countries and choose to remain largely agricultural.

Its small number of plantation owners and state cabals of politicos should have followed suit as these other places, and they're were leaders in power who wanted to, but they were not the winners in this battle of way-of-life desires. Tragically, it would take a brutal four year Civil War to finally settle the very many reasons for the conflict, which are not the focus of this article and won't be gone into.

As he grew up he became well versed with the profession of sailing, and perhaps, even more importantly, a thorough knowledge of Charleston, South Carolina's harbor. When the American Civil began at the aforementioned city, Robert was thought highly enough of to be selected to steer the CSS Planter. A year later, in April of 1862, Smalls began to plot his escape.

The details of his daring dash to freedom are far too detailed to go into here but links will be provided for those wishing to read the amazing story. Suffice to say he became a hero and began to serve in the Union navy, later going to Washington City to try and persuade Lincoln and Secretary of War Edwin Stanton to permit black men to fight. He was successful in this endeavor, and Stanton signed the orders allowing up to 5,000 blacks to enlist.

Historic Baptist Tabernacle Church

LATER LIFE and CONGRESSMAN
The year after the war ended Smalls found himself back in Beaufort. He went into private business and began to study. In 1870 this remarkable and active man even started, along with several others, a business called the Enterprise Railroad. A quote from Wikipedia has Author Bernard E. Powers calling it "the most impressive commercial venture by members of Charleston's black elite." Two years after this he owned and helped to publish a black-owned newspaper in Beaufort.

Smalls was always appreciative of the party that ended bondage, and that, was of course, the Republican Party. In 1912 he was so worried about a Democratic victory in that years elections he wrote about hoping every colored man in the North would vote and bury the Democrats so deep "...that there will not be seen even a bubble coming from the spot where the burial took place."

After serving effectively and wisely in South Carolina politics he was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives in 1874 for two terms. It is also noteworthy that the man advanced to be a major-general in the second brigade of the South Carolina militia. He went on to serve many other terms up until 1887. President Benjamin Cleveland in 1890 appointed Smalls a collector of the port of Beaufort. There are just so many more amazing factoids about this gentleman that it's best to leave them for the links provided at the end of the article.

Memorial next to church

Monument, statue and grave in Beaufort's historic Tabernacle Baptist Churchyard

FAMILY LIFE
In conclusion to this thumbnail sketch perhaps it's appropriate to mention that with his first wife, Hannah Jones Smalls, there were three children produced from that union. After Hannah passed away in 1883 he married Annie E. Wigg who bore him a son. Robert Smalls died of several physical ailments at the age of 75 in 1915.

www.robertsmalls.com/history.html
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Smalls

MARTIN'S STATION: Photos and Videos

8/23/2016

"...the most authentically re-constructed frontier fort in America."

Recently myself and associate Ms. Gale, along with two friends, visited a truly cool and historic place my friends. I've been to a lot of historic places but Martin's Station in Virginia's Wilderness Road State Park was an absolute standout. All four of us thoroughly enjoyed our time there and our thanks go out to the State Park's employees, reenactors and reenactor/ Rangers.

Here is the go to link for so much more about this most remarkable place:
http://www.historicmartinsstation.com/

Entrance to the beautiful state park.

This painting greets you in the Visitor's Center, and although I'm not positive, I think it is Martin's Stations Overmountainmen gathering for their long ride down the western face of NC to gain victory battling Ferguson's Tories at King's Mt in SC during the Revolutionary War.

Cherokee hunting ground encampment.

With the exception on the first grave digital all pics above are of a Cherokee Indian hunting encampment.

The very nice and dedicated reenactor/Ranger portraying Nancy Ward. This lady could place a tomahawk dead square in a tree from quite a distance!

Pioneer Cabins and Garden

Blacksmith, Wagon and Gunsmith shops

Outside cooking area at Fort

Entrance to the fort

One of our friends is in her element! Her heart and soul is in this region of the west Appalachians.

Ms. Gale says good-bye with affection to all the nice folks and marvelous Martin's Station

Brunswick Town/ Fort Anderson Photos and Some History

5/30/2016

Mural in the excellent museum that depicts a scene of militia retaking town from Spanish in 1748.

COLONIAL BRUNSWICK

BRUNSWICK TOWN'S FOUNDING IN THE 1700s

Cannon recovered from the river in the 1980s thought to be from the Spanish war ship Fortuna. The vessel blew up in the Cape Fear when the townsfolk retook the port.

Brunswick Town was founded as an important port town in the long ago year of 1726, by one Maurice Moore, the son of South Carolina's governor. The son would have been hard-pressed to find a more bucolic and enchanting spot than right there, about 12 miles up the Cape Fear River on its left side. The king of England at the time was George I, who had originally hailed from Brunswick, Germany, and thus, this early port settlement in Carolina was named after him.

This must have been a generally happy and productive site to live on, as the place was a busy transporting area for the ubiquitous tree products of tar, turpentine, and pitch. The coastal soil was probably good for growing vegetables and fruits, the forests still held wild game in abundance and most probably there were domesticated animals as well. As things went for newcomers to this particular spot on coastal Carolina in the early 1700s, at times it might have been a veritable paradise in certain respects. With even a cooling breeze in the steamy summer months. Walking it today, one can still get this feeling of contentment via the breeze and shade.

With a couple of royal governors living in Brunswick one after the other, the town became a meeting place for the colonial assembly at times in its courthouse. Through and for the Crown back in England, merchants had to pony-up with taxes and shipping expenses to the old Mother Country. However, come the year 1765 the colonists strongly expressed their displeasure about these burdens, especially towards the despised tax stamps that were distributed. So vehement were they in this that they actually got the stamps stopped.

The town began to go down hill as an important place not long after the royal governor relocated to New Bern, and Wilmington to the north started to take on added significance and growth. The War of Jenkin's Ear, that later segued way into the War of the Austrian Succession in Europe, probably didn't help matters any, either. This conflict was a world wide one and Britain and Spain found themselves on opposite sides of the belligerents. The huge mural in the museum shows a microcosm of that war with Spanish ships attacking Brits starting to fire back from the dock.

A friendly pirate figure in the museum's lobby.

The three photos above are what's left of St. Phillips Church. It's the tallest standing structure at the Historic Site. It took a long time to build this house of worship, not being completely finished until 1768. It was very well made structure that was only in use for eight short years before being burned by the British in 1776. I will tell the reader that it's the best, or rather, most complete church structure that was burned during the Revolutionary and/or Civil War era that I've ever seen in the Carolinas. Anyone who visits this historic house of worship should be delighted, not only with its preservation, but with the very ambience it exudes.

Below are some photos of graves and foundations

FORT ANDERSON IN THE CIVIL WAR
At the beginning of the war the Southern Government deemed it necessary to build or confiscate a number of forts along the Cape Fear River to aid in defending the important port town of Wilmington. Anderson was about 15 miles upriver from the coast and the mounds you see in the photos here were parts of that labor-intensive construction begun at the start of the war by the South. The two batteries with about 10 guns in total, not only protected vital
Wilmington proper, but gave cover to blockade runners on the river as well.

On December the 20th of 1864, for the second and last time. Robert E. Lee dispatched General Robert Hoke's division from his besieged army to North Carolina for the difficult mission of protecting the indispensable port city, known as the "Gibraltar of the Confederacy". His force was to initially, along with its sparse, but tough
garrison, defend Fort Fisher.  These Carolinian and Georgian soldiers entrenched north of the fort on Jan. the 15th as the vast Union armada made its lodgments of soldiers and marines. General Braxton Bragg prevented Hoke
    from attacking, which if he had, might  have turned the bloody close-in struggle for the place into a victory for the
    rebels, despite unarguably taking heavy casualties from the federal soldiers and navy while doing so.

    After the fiasco at Ft. Fisher Bragg decided to defend to defend Wilmington upriver. To do that, he put Hoke's
    men and others in the two abandoned forts of Ft. Anderson and Sugar Loaf. The young Major-General
    posted Kirkland's brigade and the Junior and Senior Reserves around the big sand and wood dune constructions. Other forces from hisdivision manned lines to the east and west. For the following three-weeks he fortified things and kept his troops  morale up as best he could.

   Despite all his diligent efforts, and for a myriad of problems such as gunboat bombardments and a heavy and
   determined attack on his left flank, Hoke ordered Hagood's South Carolina brigade to evacuate Ft. Anderson on
   Feb. the 19th 1865. His division then continued its defense of Wilmington from other positions, but the situation
   was dire and Wilmington fell on Feb. the 22nd. But not before General Hoke had successfully evacuated essential
supplies, prisoners, and most importantly, his fighting men.

Civil War dune fortifications for artillery facing the Cape Fear River. Below are a painting of rebel reenactors firing on charging Federals, that is in the museum, and Civil War cannon with caissons in front of the building's entrance..

Scenic view of the Cape Fear.

Long view of fortifications and bombproofs.

Possibly pit once used for mining now water-filled.

Just two photos of the very many interesting displays of artifacts inside.

The site really is a marvelous disc0very. It's intimate, doesn't take all day to see everything, and the trails are great. The museum is friendly with lots to enjoy. Saw this comment there too: Better than Fort Fisher!

Here is a link to a more detailed history (including that since the Civil War, plus the archeology of the site, maps and directions, hours of operation, etc: http://www.nchistoricsites.org/brunswic/brunswic.htm

Mary Boykin Chesnut - Civil War Pulitzer Prize Winning Diary

2/12/2016

Phyllis Doyle Burns has given Once Upon a History a marvelous and accurate story about a remarkable woman. Parts of Mary's diary were published in 1905, and after further entries were discovered later on in the century, the diary went on to win the Pulitzer Prize for history in 1982.

Ms. Doyle put her heart and soul into this kind contribution and we here at the Carolinian's Archives can't thank her enough. To me, Mary Chesnut, seems a politically astute, extraordinarily perceptive, Melanie-type woman of the movie Gone With the Wind. A link to Phyllis's excellent site can be found at the end of the article. And so, we begin the story of a woman who's diary is a "vivid picture of a society in the throes of its life & death struggle."

***image: Mary Boykin Chesnut, wiki pd
Mary Boykin Chesnut, 1823 - 1886
Wikipedia Public Domain
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Boykin_Chesnut

In A Diary from Dixie Mary Boykin Chesnut, a politically savvy woman, noted on December 10, 1860, in Charleston, South Carolina when she said to her companions, "A fever that only bloodletting will cure". She was referring to the tensions building up between the North and South political and social factions.

Mary was not a woman to sit calmly outside the boundaries of political talk and rumours, fanning herself and sipping mint juleps - far from it. No, she was right in the midst of the conversations that men dominated. Mary was an intense listener. She paid attention to tone and inflection of voice. She also had a great memory and recorded what she heard. She could catch a conversation a distance away and quickly find out what was going on and who was speaking. Was she eavesdropping or snooping? No - she was alert to the state of her country, what her husband was up against as a high-ranking official, and the way of life in the South, their hopes, fears and uncertainty of what was to come.

Mary was a natural writer and keeper of accurate records, including names and dates. It started with her personal, private diary of daily life among family and friends then exploded into her book A Diary from Dixie, a time-honored masterpiece of life during the war that tore the country, families and friends apart.

The diary was not published till 1905, nineteen years after Mary died. She wrote it in a concise and dynamic style that keeps the reader bound to her time in history. It is still considered by historians as one of the most important documented American Civil War journals ever written. It contains not just narratives of a most crucial time in American history, but personal observations, emotions and thoughts. The diary was one of the most significant books of her time, which is still used today as an accurate resource for history of the Civil War. Mary was a remarkable and resourceful woman who lived at a time of great struggle and change in America.

Mary Boykin Miller was born March 31, 1923 in the High Hills of Santee, a region of long, narrow hills in Sumter County, South Carolina. Her parents were Stephen Decatur Miller of South Carolina and Mary Boykin. Miller served in the United States Congress and was elected as governor of South Carolina in 1829 as a proponent of nullification. In 1831 he became a U.S. Senator. When Miller retired from politics he moved his family to Camden, Mississippi where he purchased three cotton plantations.

The young girl received an excellent education at Mme. Talvande's French School for Young Ladies. She was 13 years old at the time of enrollment, had a sharp mind, she spoke German and French fluently and had a good life. She read a lot and garnered a great knowledge. With her father holding important positions in the military and then politics she was well on her way to becoming politically savvy at an early age.

When Mary was seventeen she married James Chesnut, Jr on April 23, 1840. James was the only surviving son of one of the largest landowners in South Carolina. For the next twenty years Mary and James lived or spent most of their time at Mulberry, the home and one of several plantations owned by James Chesnut, Sr. It is evident how much Mary loved the home and her in-laws from the descriptions she wrote in her diary.

***image: Mulberry Plantation, Chestnut home, wiki pd
Mulberry Plantation, Home of James and Mary Boykin Chesnut
Wikipedia Public Domain
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mulberry_Plantation

The Diary ~

Mary took an active part in her husband's career through entertaining, which is an important part of building political networks. She was well-known for her charming hospitality and expertise as a hostess. Like her father, James Chestnut held important offices in the military and politics - he needed a wife like Mary who supported him fully. When the War Between the States was inevitable Mary was very much aware of the vast historical importance of times to come - so, she kept writing.

Mary wrote every day in her diary, regardless of where she was. She was a model woman of the aristocracy yet did not write on just the upper class society. She included all classes of people in her diary and how their lives, too, were affected by the war. She included excerpts of letters from her friends who wrote about important events and persons. Mary had dinner parties often where, before the secession and war, notable people of both the North and South were invited. She wrote about their conversations which had an impact on what was to come. Without knowing exactly what was to come, Mary had vision and knew what statements would become of special note for future reference.

Mary started her diary years before the outbreak of the war and wrote about family, their homes, careers and way of life in her circles. She wrote down the passage of time and lives within family, the endearing love for each other and the sorrows of loss when loved ones died. She also expressed her hopes that slaves would always be treated well and kindly, as her father-in-law did. Mary never liked the idea of slavery, but she kept that to herself. She started writing about the politics and war on February 18, 1861. Her last entry was August 2, 1865.

She had a remarkable understanding of people, their concepts and what honed their thoughts or opinions. It was as if her mind could dive behind the spoken words to the heart of the matter. It came to be known that Mary was not easily shocked or deceived. Voices of men who were experienced and knowledgeable of politics and war did not hush their voices when she entered their groups.

When the possibility of war was talked about in all levels of society she wrote down what she heard from others and included her own thoughts, with wit, charm and frankness. She wrote about her interview with Robert E. Lee and her thoughts about Jefferson Davis. Mary accompanied her husband on his military operations to major southern towns. This gave her the opportunity to speak with southern politicians and hear their stories, private concerns and interests which she included in her book.

When reading what Mary wrote of conversations at one of her many dinner parties with distinguished guests it is like sitting right there at the table hearing it all in person. The candle lights casting glow or shadows on faces, tone of voices, expressions - it all comes alive through Mary's words.

On December 10, 1860 Mary had described how in Camden they were so "busy and frantic with excitement" as Confederate troops drilled and marched in training and parades with their guns, swords, red sashes and high blue cockades. She was very descriptive of people and events, painting vivid pictures with words.

The talk of secession before the outbreak of war is well covered by Mary in the diary. She wrote down word for word what men like Francis W. Pickens, the Governor of South Carolina, said about the upcoming convention that was possibly to end in the vote to secede from the Union.

Eleven days later Mary sat with friends reviewing a copy of the Secession Ordinance. Mrs. Kincaid, who brought the copy, said "God help us. As our day, so shall our strength be." This simple statement was received with gratitude to ease tension in the group.

Mary's pride and respect for the leading politicians and notables of the South comes through strongly in her writing. She relates that South Carolina was splendidly represented, never more so than when they voted to secede with conviction and faith for success. She wrote that it "makes society delightful" and right she was - for the patriotism and excitement of preparing to become their own republic, their own country, sent ecstatic emotions soaring through their veins. Love and pride for being part of the South was strong in their hearts.

Life after secession

South Carolina Secession Delegation, 1860
"We the people of the State of South Carolina, in Convention assembled do declare and ordain, and it is hereby declared and ordained, That the Ordinance adopted by us in Convention, on the twenty-third day of May in the year of our Lord One Thousand Seven hundred and eighty eight, whereby the Constitution of the United State of America was ratified, and also all Acts and parts of Acts of the General Assembly of this State, ratifying amendment of the said Constitution, are hereby repealed; and that the union now subsisting between South Carolina and other States, under the name of The United States of America, is hereby dissolved."

In February 1861, Jefferson Davis was elected President of the Confederacy and Alexander H. Stephens, statesman of Georgia, became Vice President.

Mary notes how her relationship with Mrs. Varina Jefferson Davis had changed. With a warm greeting to each other they then abstained from talk of politics and things said in their respective circles. Visiting the First Lady had become quite different than when visiting "Jeff's" wife before the secession.

Interesting anecdotes and mention of important men in society and politics is disbursed throughout the diary. Mary's wit and personal comments slip out with her private thoughts about what one person or another said or did, such as, "What did he know? He only thought, he did not feel." Her thoughts about a slave on the auction block makes her faint and feeling ill. "Poor women, poor slaves!"

Newspaper headlines and short excerpts of articles are recorded in the diary. Men in high offices began to resign positions held in United States government to join the side of their Southern neighbors and states. Soldiers resigned their commissions from the Union Army and came to James Chestnut requesting an office. A slave who was once proud of his important position in a wealthy family had been cast aside and became ragged and forlorn, homeless.

Slowly the reader begins to see subtle changes to life in the South after the Secession. Then it explodes into the actual war and how life in the South is devastated.

Some of the things Mary records may be a bit shocking to some, for she was noting the personal side of the Civil War era. We read about history of the battles and leaders, but rarely do we get to read about the down-to-earth and bold statements of people in daily life. Mary relates how life was for the South during the war. Phenomenal changes had occurred to their way of life.

The appreciation for the most simple things had grown to amazing proportions. The cost of necessities rose to staggering, unheard of prices. Shoes of comfort and style were a thing of the past. A pair of simple shoes and socks to keep feet warm was a cherished treasure. Always somewhere would be a gathering of women to knit socks for the soldiers who would go without if not for those dedicated women. Mary often joined the knitting groups. Busy skilled hands that once made delicate, intricate and lovely items in leisure time had become necessary tools for much needed things that had become scarce.

What flowed through the minds of women as they sat and knitted for their soldiers? What went through the minds of soldiers fighting for their country and families? Mary expresses many of these thoughts which helps us to understand how life was during the war.

To write more about this would only take away from the pleasure of reading Mary's accounts written in her detailed and descriptive style. Mary did not focus much on the battles and campaigns as plethora of authors did and still do. Her diary is about people, their daily lives, concerns and involvement, their fears and hopes. From the first rumours of issues between the North and South, the secession, the war and the reconstruction, Mary kept accurate accounts of the political / military people involved and what was happening in personal lives.

Taking of the forts and arsenals ~

The Confederacy needed to strengthen their positions in light of upcoming battles that were no longer just probable, but inevitable. They had to seize the forts and arsenals in the South.

Fort Sumter was one of the strongest of the United States Army. The South must take it as their own was the talk and Mary writes down the significant details. The U.S. Army was vulnerable to an attack where they were stationed in Charleston harbor. On December 26th Robert Anderson, Major of the First Artillery, moved his command to Fort Sumter to better prepare for defense against the Confederacy. More Southern states had joined the Confederacy and their strength was growing. Fort Pickens was another strong one the Confederacy had to take if at all possible.

Attack against Fort Sumter - 1861
A Currier and Ives print
Wikipedia Public Domain
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Fort_Sumter

Mary writes passionately of how the political intrigue in the South had become "as rife as in Washington" and her thoughts on what the South needs to do. Born leaders were needed to meet the tremendous odds, endurance of the toughest with military instinct, were thoughts running through her head.

Because Mary was married to Brigadier General of the Confederate Army, James Chesnut, she was right in the midst of all the events leading up to and during the war. Her personal thoughts of men who became historical figures show the reader that these were real life people, each with their own concerns, abilities and goals.

Her diary brings us closer to Lincoln, Davis, Pickens, high ranking military officers like her husband, governors and senators who had major responsibilities, and enlisted soldiers. We, as readers, find simple statements from President Lincoln and others rather than reading famous speeches that we learned in history lessons and may know by heart. Mary gives us an insider's view of notables and people of society she knew. It is incredible to know what went on in daily life and who said what. We easily become acquainted with these historical figures because Mary was so dedicated in documenting conversations and events. She had the foresight that the future would want to read such remarkable accounts of those times of struggle and uncertainty.

Letter to Mary ~

In a letter from James Chestnut to Mary, dated June 29, 1862, from Richmond, Virginia, he writes about "the largest and fiercest (battle) of the whole war".

Some research to find out what day of the week Chestnut wrote the letter, which was a Sunday, then tracking back to a list of battles, I found the Friday and battle he was referring to: Battle of Gaines Mill (or Battle of Chickahominy), on Friday June 27, 1862. On that day, Robert E. Lee's force launched the largest Confederate attack of the war, about 60,000 men in six divisions. The Union forces retreated across the Chickahominy River. The fierce battle saved Richmond for the Confederacy.

***image: Battle of Gaines Mill, wiki pd
"Battle of Gaines Mill, Valley of the Chickahominy, Virginia, June 27, 1862." Records of the Office of the Chief Signal Officer, 1860 - 1985.
Wikipedia Public Domain
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Gaines's_Mill

After the war ~

After the war the South faced Reconstruction and the difficulty of re-joining the Union. Re-building their homelands was yet another tremendous struggle. So much had been damaged, so much destroyed and lost forever, so many people had died. Of the 750,000 to 1,000,000 enlisted soldiers of the Army, Marines and Navy in the Confederacy, 290,000 were killed in battle or died in Union prisons. The Union lost more soldiers than the South did - they had over 2 million soldiers enlisted. Both sides lost so much.

And although these were the official estimates for almost 140 years, recent revised historians estimates of fatalities, North and South, place these numbers at possibly as high as, or close to, 800,000. Which, of course, means many more soldiers died in the terrible conflict than had long been previously thought. To put things in perspective, total deaths for U.S. soldiers in WW2 was about 405,000 men, at a time when the population of the country was very much higher than the early 1860s.

Southern women during the Civil War ~

Mary Boykin Chesnut gave us a vivid image of the women in her time by writing about their emotions, fears, patriotism, opinions, how involved they had become and how much aware they were of the politics and battles of the war, how they suffered deep emotions and fears.

They were dedicated to The Southern Cause, supportive to each other and to their husbands, fathers and sons who were so far away. They kept an extremely active schedule during the days attending meetings, volunteering for anything that would help the Confederacy, and keeping everything at home running as smoothly as possible. One can imagine how these women and thousands of others spent the long lonely nights alone with their personal thoughts, emotions, hopes, and prayers.

It is very probable that most women, regardless of their station in life, must have written in personal diaries. To be able to read just one is so enlightening about a time in the distant past. Reading Mary's diary brings it all back in a new light.

The South lost the war and their way of life changed drastically, yet they never lost that Southern spiritual passion for their homelands, their souls were never conquered, and their hospitality is still as warm as it always has been.

"August 2d. - Dr. Boykin and John Witherspoon were talking of a nation in mourning, of blood poured out like rain on the battlefields-for what? "Never let me hear that the blood of the brave has been shed in vain! No; it sends a cry down through all time.""
- Mary Boykin Chesnut, 1865

Note from author ~

Mary was a fantastic writer, she will make you laugh, ponder, cheer, cry, and bring the era of her times to life. She described things in great detail and kept photos of notable people of her time as well as family members. There is an entire collection of Mary's diary and photographs at the Caroliniana Library in South Carolina. The collection of photographs and a caption for each one is astounding - Generals of the Confederacy and other distinguished men are included. Photos never before seen is amazing to look at. To see the collection is to bring it all back from long ago memories.

The Civil War changed people of the South in many ways. It made some kinder, some bitter. There was another side to slavery that the North did not understand and few people today understand. In some wealthy families who owned slaves there was a bond built from many years of trust, support, nurturing and love. When that bond was torn apart it was heartbreaking for many people.

When traveling to a safer place a woman of the aristocracy and a slave woman to sit close to each other for comfort and security, to give each other a touch on the arm for reassurance, to cry together as friends was not frowned upon. For women to give up their seats on the train for a wounded soldier standing in the aisle did not cause shock, for it was no longer breaking societal customs. A woman and her slave crying together because they would soon be parted due to emancipation was a sorrowful experience. For some bonds people, to suddenly be set free after spending a whole life with one family in the only home they knew was fearful and uncertain. Some southern women could no longer face life because their husband and for many their sons, also, were killed -a goodly number just retreated into darkness and died from broken hearts.

Mary's diary is about people, their sorrows, fears, loss and facing a different way of life, not just the aristocracy, but the bonds people, free blacks, poor whites and just plain regular white folk also. One may very well have a different outlook at the way of life in the South before the Civil War after reading Mary's diary.

http://hubpages.com/@phyllisdoyle
Phyllis Doyle Burns

House in the Horseshoe: 18th Century Historical Home Photo Tour

12/3/2015

Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration. ~ Charles Dickens

Many years ago, a salesman who traveled much of the southeastern U.S. for his job, was asked by an inquiring young man what State he thought had the finest scenery. Without hesitation he replied North Carolina, and with a smile full of fond memories at that. The salesman was obviously remembering some of those scenes while answering the question. The history and photo story your on about the House in the Horseshoe, brought the full meaning back to me of what that man so genuinely felt, after visiting this historical site in the eastern Piedmont region of North Carolina.

As mentioned in some previous stories on the Carolinian's Archives, this 18th century built majestic home was one of four sites an associate and I visited recently in mid-North Carolina for articles and photos to feature on the website. Without a doubt, this historical structure and the acreage it sits upon were one of the highlights of the trip. I also decided to make this article more of a photo-tour kind of story rather a text heavy one; there is just so much info attached to the place and its surrounding property, that doing it from more of a personal experience style, verses a Wikipedia way, seemed like it would be more enjoyable to write and a friendlier read.

However, for those who want some more interesting details and facts, they'll be some links at the end of the article to go on. It's not that we won't have some history along with the photos, certainly there will be; and some not found on other sites I looked at, but with a few first hand tales related to us from the state park man. We and the guide were the only ones there the whole time, so that was an opportunity to become more chummy and relaxed with the gentleman than other wise might have been the case had there been a lot more folks on the tour.

Main House- Carolinian's Archives photo

After seeing the sign and pulling down the unpaved road a for what seemed like a couple hundred feet or so, the house and accompanying buildings came into our sight. At first it looked like any other very old house that had been taken of care for as long as this one has. All of that was to quickly change into something else entirely more interesting before long though.

The site's guide soon walked down from his small building near the entrance and greeted us. Before what soon turned-out to be a fine gentleman reached the home and new arrivals, its atmosphere had already started to sink in and a feeling of an adventure of sorts was starting to be felt by the both of us.. A cool ambience was just all over the place, is perhaps the best way to describe it. One of the first things noticed about the two-story house itself, was the large number of big bullet holes out in front, through the wood. Very obvious they were, and this before even knowing positively who made them or even when.

Now I knew from a brochure or something else I read, that the place had a strong Revolutionary War past to it, so I probably assumed they came from that era, but just wasn't sure. There turned out to be much more to this historic site than just that event, however. So what you see in these first few photos and gallery are basically what was first seen by us on arriving at the House in the Horseshoe..

And before proceeding any further, let me state there was an inner- feeling of peace that came over me, while just looking around and waiting for the guide to walk down the road to greet us. Beautiful scenery to take in for one thing, as there were wide vistas about, except for maybe the back area, where a lot of attractive trees, a split- rail fence and some buildings were.

Yard- well- outbuilding- Carolinian's Archives photo

Photos below are the porch- multiple bullet holes around door- pretty scenery with path and fence

A high-up politico man in the 18th century had this unusual house built in 1772. Unusual in the sense that most people at that time in middle North Carolina, which was still somewhat frontier country, lived in rough-hewn cabins. The man's name was Philip Alston and he had the home on 4,000 acres of property he bought as well. He came from a wealthy family near the coast and, along with his wife, purchased all this in Moore County (which was part of Cumberland Co. until 1785) without the aid of an inheritance. Apparently a Scots contractor fellow was hired for the building work. The man and his workers did a super bang-up job with its construction, just a magnificent place to sum it up. But, let's not forget those who have kept it this way throughout the years.

One of the first things I asked the guide, who was laid-back, soon to feel quite comfortable with us, and very knowledgeable, was how all the bullet holes came to be? As mentioned at the start, we were the only visitors the whole hour or so we were there. Nice, very nice, to have a fellow like our cool guide to show us around and talk about things. Just the three of us. Maybe going on an early weekday, later on in the day, is the best time for a chance of this happening for other visitors.

In 1780 when British forces took Charleston and then Cornwallis marched up into the Carolina backcountry, local folks pretty much had to declare for one side or the other, loyalist or patriot. Philip Alston went with the independence-minded and was a colonel. A man with a rather unsavory, infamous reputation, named David Fanning, went the other way. The colonel's men were bivouacked at the house come July 29th, 1781, when Fanning's more numerous followers came-a-calling with an attack.

So that's where all those holes came from. I don't know what caliber muskets Fanning's men were firing but they were surely heavy, as some bullets not only went through the thick wood up front but hit places far back in the house, like the stairs, for example. The loyalists even tried burning the home down. According to one source I checked on the internet, it said Alston's wife settled the surrender of her husband's men outside in a small structure. But the guide also told us that this brave woman, whatever she discussed, or persuaded, was that Fanning would sit the rest of the war out. As far as that history goes, I can't say for sure what he did, but the guide would know if anyone. Also, he told us that during the shoot-out, she had her children stand up in the fireplace chimney to avoid being hit by any of the attackers' deadly lead missiles.

Bullet holes inside the home with the first photo taken at the staircase; the fireplace where the children stood-up during the skirmish and woven bassinet next to it. The last one was taken in the downstairs bedroom across from the fireplace.

Before continuing on, some readers might be wondering how the place got its name. The home and property are somewhat in the area of a large flow of water called the Deep River that bends around like the letter U.. So from the air, and just surveying things out, it certainly would appear as a place inside a horseshoe. Maybe there will be a map on one of the links. I couldn't find a book that was available to be checked-out at the libraries I visited, seeking info on the historic home, so we'll see, as I, and any interested reader, check the links out further, in more detail. Anyway, it's appropriately named however the location of it sits within the Deep River bend.

The first three photos in the gallery above show the downstairs master bedroom with a writing desk, a pitcher wash basin and bed curtains. The bottom three show the upstairs children's/ playroom. And below are period clothes laid out in the upstairs children's room. I hope to add some more digitals from another SD card soon.

Carolinian's Archives photographs

Now might be good time to write that this unique place put off a peaceful vibe. It was just a beautiful area and it really made us feel comfortable and welcome. I'm very glad we choose this Houses on the National Register of Historical Places in North Carolina to visit. Being interested in house ghosts, I had to ask our guide right before we left if there were any unusual goings-on reported here. In a neutral and thoughtful manner, he replied that " if there are, they're happy ones".

Back to the photos: the gallery below shows the staircase, the girl children's toys and Alston coat-of-arms.

Some years after the war, 1790 to be exact, Alston sold the house to a Thomas Perkins after malfeasances in official capacities and even indictments for murder were brought against Alston. After the sale he moved out of the state. The place was then acquired by Gov. Benjamin Williams in 1798. The home and plantation grounds remained with his family until 1853, and from there had several ownerships until 1954, when it was purchased and fixed-up by the Moore County Historical Association. The next year saw the state buy it, and in a way, thank goodness for that, as it is one of, if the not best, preserved such places I've ever seen in the Carolinas.

Some info is in the last pictures on the photo tour, taken of boards set-up there at this historic site, which was near the guide's sprouting vegetable garden. The vegetables he had, and was rightly proud of, would have been something the owners through the many years would have had growing in plots as well. The wide fields about might have seen corn, wheat, and cotton, just to name several probable things planted, in those early years, too.

Well from circa 1803 (37 feet deep)

Close-up view of heavy-caliber musket ball holes

The pics in the gallery above are an aboveground tomb, reconstructed period fence, doors to the root cellar under the detached kitchen and items in the small but excellent museum, such as a musket and farm/ plantation implements. Kitchens were usually apart from big homes in those days for fear of cooking fires & other causes.

Mr. and Mrs. Alston portraits. Below are various pictures of children's beds (could that be a night jar under the bigger bed?), garden, info boards, painting of house, an outbuilding which I believe is the kitchen detached from the main house, and a display case full of items from inside the interesting museum.

The Carolinian's Archives thanks and appreciates all viewers and followers for coming by, as always.

Wikipedia

North Carolina history.org

Hugh Glass - The horrific true story of the legendary frontiersman

10/6/2015

Phyllis Doyle, Author and Poet on HubPages http://phyllisdoyle.hubpages.com Spirituality, Twin Souls, Soul Mates Spiritual Coaching http://www.ingenio.com/details/Phyllis-Burns/Personal-Coaching/10088825

Phyllis Doyle Burns is one of the most frequent and welcome guest writers on the Carolinian's Archives, and for good reason, as this story will make obvious. I can tell the reader she is almost excited about it being on here as we are. It's that amazing a story.

As a small lad I'd often read a Reader's Digest book called American Folklore. One of the stories that I always remembered was the one about Hugh Glass. An incredible tale of survival in America's old trapping mountain man west.

And can you imagine my surprise when I saw that a movie, at least based on this man's story, is to be released in Jan. of 2016 starring Leonardo Di Caprio and is called The Revenant. Thank you, Phyllis, this will be one I'll read two or three times, no doubt about it.

http://phyllisdoyle.hubpages.com
http://www.ingenio.com/detail/personal-advice/phyllis-burns/10088825

Hugh Glass 1830 Wikipedia, Public Domain

Hugh Glass became a legendary folk hero of the 1800s with an unbelievable story and a will for revenge that made him a true badass long before the term was ever coined. To look at the man one could tell he deserved respect for fearless courage with no end to endurance.

Hugh Glass was the type of man Robert W. Service would describe as "fit to survive". The rugged Yukon is still considered one of the most dangerous, unforgiving places in the world. Service wrote a poem telling of how the Yukon demanded top caliber men to explore her lands. After learning about Hugh Glass, one would think the poem was about him.

Law of the Yukon by Robert W. Service ~

This is the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain:

"Send not your foolish and feeble; send me your strong and your sane --

Strong for the red rage of battle; sane for I harry them sore;

Send me men girt for the combat, men who are grit to the core;

Swift as the panther in triumph, fierce as the bear in defeat,

Sired of a bulldog parent, steeled in the furnace heat.

Send me the best of your breeding, lend me your chosen ones;

Them will I take to my bosom, them will I call my sons; ...

This is the Law of the Yukon, that only the Strong shall thrive;

That surely the Weak shall perish, and only the Fit survive.

Dissolute, damned and despairful, crippled and palsied and slain,

This is the Law of the Yukon, -- Lo, how she makes it plain!

Yes, the Yukon would have proudly embraced Hugh Glass. He was a loner and a man with a bond to Nature. He knew the laws of Nature and how to thrive. To describe what kind of man Hugh was takes a lot of words. Suffice it to say he was a survivor, one of the toughest frontiersmen of his time and grit to the core.

Hugh was of Scots-Irish descent. His parents migrated from the Irish province of Ulster to North America and settled in Pennsylvania, where Hugh was born sometime around 1780. He became a frontiersman, mountainman, trapper, and explorer of the Upper Missouri River which is now North Dakota, South Dakota and Montana, and a man who would face fear with courage and brute strength.

Wikipedia public domain

Ashley's Hundred ~

In 1822 Hugh signed up for a fur trading expedition led by General William Henry Ashley. It was a corps of 100 men who were to ascend the Missouri River to its source, forge new paths and set up outposts. They were called 'Ashley's Hundred'. Ashley hired only men of high caliber who could withstand the rugged job ahead of them. They had to be strong, well-armed and able to trap for up to three years.

Besides Hugh Glass, some of the other men Ashley chose included Jedediah Smith, Jim Beckwourth, Thomas Fitzpatrick, Jim Bridger, Joseph Meek, John Fitzgerald, Robert Newell and Kit Carson.

Encounters and battles with the Arikara Indian tribes took the lives of several of Ashley's men. In one attack from a tribe, Hugh received a musket ball in his thigh. Limping around with his own pain he helped the wounded and dying men in his group. In June an attack and the danger of more hostile tribe members ahead had made the troop change direction from the Missouri River ascent and west to the Grand River Valley.

Grizzly bear

Bear attack ~

In August 1823 Hugh Glass, Jim Bridger and John Fitzgerald went out looking for game to add more meat to the expedition's larder. Hugh was near the forks of the Grand River in South Dakota when he came upon a she-bear and her cubs. It was a grizzly bear he surprised and she attacked quickly. The rifle he was carrying was knocked out of his hands, so all he had was a knife. The bear was clawing and biting him viciously and he kept stabbing till she dropped on him. His scalp was ripped nearly off, his back was so mauled the ribs were exposed, he was bleeding profusely, had a broken leg, skin on his face, arm and hand was shredded and he had a rip in his throat.

They both lay there badly wounded but still breathing when Bridger and Fitzgerald finally got there in time to shoot the bear in the head, finishing her off. They had to kill the cubs, too. By then Hugh was unconscious. They carried him back to camp as quickly as they could. The shots fired had rung out through the valley, as did Hugh's screams and the fear of hostile Indians hearing all that was a threat they did not take lightly.

Back at camp, Ashley and the other men knew that if the hostile Indians were that close then they had to move out fast and take Hugh with them. None of them wanted to leave Hugh to die alone and without a burial. The men stood around in disbelief, shocked that the "Old Man" was still breathing. Ashley knew they had to get on the move and quickly!

According to Hiram Allen, a member of General Ashley's brigade, Ashley had men cut some branches to make a litter to carry Hugh on. After two days Hugh was still groaning from the pain of being moved. The distance covered was much too slow and rather than taking the chance of losing all his men to Indian attacks Ashley decided it was best to leave Hugh. There had already been several battles and too many men killed. Hugh was as good as dead Ashley thought, so asked two men to stay with the dying man so the group could move on faster.

Bridger and Fitzgerald volunteered to stay for the death-watch then bury Hugh. They started digging the grave as the group headed out.

What happened next is uncertain. The two young men did stay through the night with Hugh, expecting him to be dead by morning. Morning came and Hugh was still alive. Bridger and Fitzgerald put Hugh in the shallow grave, took his knife, rifle, equipment and outer clothing and left. When they caught up with Ashley they said Hugh was dead and they had to leave quickly when they saw a band of Indians coming.

Now, whether there was the threat of attack by Indians or the two youngsters feared a surprise attack could not be proven, but one thing was certain - Hugh Glass was not dead.

Revenge ~

Hugh was not the kind of man who would lay down and die, no, not even after being mauled nearly to death by a grizzly bear.

He came to with a scattering of dirt and dry leaves covering him. After he realized what had happened he crawled out of his grave and looked around to find he had been abandoned and all his stuff stolen. As painful as all his wounds were, he managed to set his broken leg and get himself oriented with directions.

The only threat Bridger and Fitzgerald had now was Hugh Glass.

You might say that in a way Bridger and Fitzgerald saved Hugh's life - for the anger boiling up inside him was strong. There comes a time after horrific pain is inflicted that the nerves of the body react and numbness occurs. For Hugh, the need for revenge was stronger than the pain the bear had given him, so he began his journey, on hands and knees, to find help.

The nearest help was at Fort Kiowa, nearly 250 miles away. Water had been left which was all the young men left him. Hugh could sip a little at a time when he was conscious enough. At one point he saw a rattler close by, coming towards him. Rattlesnakes don't see well at all, they follow their nose and the smell of the blood-caked man must have drawn the snake. Hugh grabbed a sharp rock and killed the rattler, skinned it and chopped the meat fine enough to swallow down his injured throat. Apparently that was enough protein to give him the strength to get up on his hands and knees.

The thought of not making it to safety at the fort never occurred to Hugh - the word impossible was not in his vocabulary. He had lived with the Pawnee people for years and knew how to survive, even if he did have only one good leg and one good arm to depend on now. He had been in worse situations with hostile Indians that would turn a normal man's gut inside out at just the thought.

He faded in and out of consciousness for quite some time as he forced his mangled body to move. In his moments of delirium flashes of near death situations from the past came back to him. Several years earlier Hugh and another trapper had been captured by the Pawnee. It was Hugh's luck that he was not chosen first to be tortured.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thunder_Butte

Flash-back ~

He watched as his friend suffered an agonizing death after being shot full of pine needles then set on fire. The smell and heat from his friend's body was almost more than he could bear. The pine needles imbedded in his partner's flesh was bad enough for torture, but the slow burning was a horror for the poor man. His screams seemed to go on and on far too long. Searing human flesh, muscle and organs left a smell in Hugh's memory that he never forgot. When death finally ended his partner's agony it was Hugh's turn. Some sort of calm from he knew not where came over him as he reached inside his pocket for a small pouch then handed it to the chief. When the chief opened the pouch and saw the rare, highly prized powdered Dragon's Blood, Hugh was suddenly taken into the tribe as if he were a long lost son.

Orientation focus ~

When he was lucid again, Hugh shook off the memory of his partner's death and looked for something to focus on for directions.

Thunder Butte, (Wakinyan Pha to the Lakota) in South Dakota rises 2,733 feet above sea level. From the plains it can be seen for miles from any direction. This was an orientation point for Hugh. He began an odyssey that few would believe anyone could accomplish. Surviving on berries and roots for food, sometimes stealing eggs from a nest on the ground he moved along slowly. A few times he found rotten logs crawling with maggots. He lay on the logs so the maggots would eat the rotting flesh on his back, which would aid the healing process.

Old Man ~

Hugh was old as far as his fellow mountain men of the day. He was in his early 40s. Bridger was only 19 and Fitzgerald 23 and already considered to be more than capable of being on the expedition. But, Hugh was tall and powerful, not a man to run from a fight, man or bear. His fellow trappers called him "Old Man", but with respect and admiration.

It took him six weeks of grueling effort to crawl as far as the Missouri River. The need for revenge ever on his mind kept him going. Did he rely on a Higher Power to guide and protect him? Only Hugh knew the answer to that, yet one must admit after hearing his story that some higher power drove him on.

When he reached the river he followed it downstream along the banks. The journey from his grave to the river started out in inches, then feet, yards and finally he had been making about two miles a day. Then he came upon a band of Sioux.

The Sioux ~

Just the mention of Sioux Indians caused terror in the minds of most men. Hugh, as mangled and physically weak as he was, had no room for fear in him - he had a mission to accomplish.

Again that knowledge of succeeding kept him alive. Somehow the Sioux saw something in this man that they should oblige. They tended his wounds and attached a bear skin to his back to keep it clean and free of flies. They then took him the rest of the way to Fort Kiowa. Just the kindness and camaraderie with the Sioux must have given Hugh even more encouragement and strength.

Once at Fort Kiowa, Hugh did not languish or bask in an atmosphere of comfort and nursing. It took him just a few days to regain enough mobility and strength to get up on his feet and on with life. He signed up with a French group to go upriver in a boat to some Mandan villages where they could re-establish a trade route.

On October 15, 1823 Hugh and the six Frenchmen in the pirogue came upon a village the Mandans had let the Rees settle in. The Rees were a band that was part of the hostile Arikara. Hugh and the interpreter Toussaint Charbonneau were the only ones of the party who reached the Mandans safely. Charbonneau had gone ahead to the Mandan village and Hugh had gone ashore to hunt. With a new rifle in his hands he was nearly back to normal, although still hobbling a little. When he saw the Rees attack and kill the men on the boat Hugh headed for cover, but was not gaining ground fast enough.

Still, it was not Hugh's time to die. Two Mandan warriors came in quickly on horseback and grabbed Hugh up, taking him to safety at Fort Tilton. It was a small fort situated between the Mandans and the Rees.

It was November 20th and Hugh was now closer to the mouth of Yellowstone River where he could find the fort of Henry Ashley. The traders at Fort Tilton were aghast when Hugh told them his story and even more amazed when Hugh told them he intended to go on alone. The Rees kept the fort pretty much hemmed in, so the only help the traders could give Hugh was to take him across the river to the east where there was less chance of running into the Rees.

Mandan village by George Catlin

250 Miles to the mouth of the Yellowstone ~

Leaving Fort Tilton, Hugh still had 250 miles to go to reach Henry's Fort at the mouth of the Yellowstone. Going on alone was dangerous, but Hugh was accustomed to that.

Going in a northwest direction, Hugh came face to face with arctic winds that could numb the body and soul. He needed to rely on every skill he had to find enough food to nourish his body. Slushy river bottom and gale-swept buttes slowed him down a little, but he kept on going. Close to a month had passed when at the confluence of the Yellowstone he spotted Fort Henry. He tied two logs together with bark and rafted across to the other bank.

Once again Hugh was thwarted and cheated of finding Bridger and Fitzgerald. As he got closer to the fort he realized there was no sign of life. Ashley and his men had deserted the place. Hugh was a tracker, though, and it did not take him long to find out which direction they took. When he found telltale signs, Hugh followed, heading south upriver on the Yellowstone.

1824 at the mouth of Bighorn River ~

Hugh tracked Ashley's group to the mouth of Bighorn River where a new fort had been built. No one opened the gate for him to bid him welcome. All the men were inside with the warmth of the fire and the contents of the New Year's Eve keg inside them.

When he walked through the door the men could only stare at what they must have thought was an apparition of the trapper that had been left dead and buried. They could only stare at the emaciated, haggard spirit that looked like a walking corpse carrying a rifle.

A sudden terror seized them until the "corpse" introduced himself. With shocked disbelief they were frozen for a moment, then realized it really was the "Old Man" - Hugh Glass. Fear and tension left them and a mood of celebration broke out with one question after another directed at him. They all began to relax, except for one man.

Jim Bridger hung back, frozen in fear and shock. Sure as death is a part of life, Bridger must have been thinking his time had come. As Hugh answered all the questions, told of his journey of over 1,000 miles to find his betrayers and seek revenge, Bridger felt shame engulf him. When Hugh turned to the young man, the look on Bridger's face was so pitiful that Hugh could not cock his rifle. Even though it was Fitzgerald who had goaded Bridger into leaving Hugh in the grave with nothing, Bridger knew he had done the "Old Man" wrong and it showed on his face. Hugh could not even force himself to take the young man's life. Hugh knew in his heart that Bridger's punishment would come from his own thoughts of shame and guilt that would last a lifetime. Deep sorrow and guilt for putting a friend in such serious danger could age a man quicker than anything and Jim Bridger must have aged a good many years in those few moments when he and Hugh locked eyes on each other.

Where was Fitzgerald? ~

Now, John Fitzgerald was older than Bridger and more cunning. Where was he now? Hugh still had some revenge boiling in him and was not about to let Fitzgerald get off scot-free. It was Fitzgerald who wanted to leave Hugh in the grave still breathing and helpless and it was Fitzgerald who would pay for that and all the hardship it caused Hugh. Another sin committed was that Fitzgerald also had Hugh's treasured rifle.

Hugh was told that Fitzgerald left Ashley's group in November with two other trappers. They may have even passed right by Hugh as he was making his way upriver, for Fitzgerald was on his way downriver at the time - more than likely at Fort Atkinson now.

The end of February came and Hugh was back on the trail again.

Pawnee camp ~

Hugh went along with four other trappers, Dutton, Moore, Chapman and Marsh who were headed south to the Platte River. They built a boat and started off for the Missouri and Fort Atkinson. They stopped at a Pawnee camp at the mouth of Laramie River so they could barter for food. Dutton stayed in the boat with the guns.

Hugh was looking forward to seeing his old friends, the Pawnees. Now, we all know by now that Hugh was a lot smarter than he looked. When they reached a group they would parley with, Hugh quickly caught a few inflection of words the Indians spoke that spelled danger and he yelled "Rickarees!" - the trappers ran to the river, swimming as fast as they could. Once on the other side, Hugh hunkered down behind some rocks. Moore and Chapman were caught and killed. The others were nowhere to be seen. When darkness would conceal him, Hugh managed to escape. He was 400 miles west of the Missouri, alone again and without a rifle.

May 1824 ~

Dutton and Marsh had made it to Fort Atkinson in May. They reported that they had been attacked by the Rees and that Glass, Chapman and Moore had been killed.

Well, it was quite obvious that Hugh Glass had nine lives when he walked into Fort Kiowa in early June. Then he headed for Fort Atkinson and Fitzgerald. He told his story to the Army commanders and demanded Fitzgerald's head and the return of his rifle.

Since Fitzgerald was now an enlisted soldier in the army, Hugh's demand was declined. A civilian could not execute a soldier he was told. The only bit of satisfaction Hugh got about his enemy is that Fitzgerald was shamed in front of the commanders and other soldiers. The soldiers took up a collection to give Hugh and his cherished rifle was given back to him. The solid weight of that special rifle was finally back where it belonged, in the hands of its rightful owner.

Return to the frontier ~

One would think that after all Hugh Glass had experienced and suffered that he would have found a peaceful place to settle and live his life out in quiet retirement. Nope ! It was not in him to sit back in a rocker with his memories.

He returned to the frontier ten years after he was left for dead. The Fort Union Trading Post hired him as a hunter for the garrison. For nine more years Hugh was back in his element as a trapper, free and on his own terms. He always was an independent soul, grit to the core.

In 1833 Hugh again faced an attack by the Arikara tribe. He and two other trappers were killed by the Arikara on the Yellowstone River. Hugh Glass died the way a man of his caliber would have wanted and where he felt he belonged - in Nature.***

A monument to Hugh Glass was placed near the site where the grizzly attacked him on the southern shore of Shadehill Reservoir at the Grand River forks.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fort_Union_Trading_Post_National_Historic_Site

Author's notes ~

An average adult female Grizzly bear weighs 290 - 400 pounds (130 - 180 kg) and is 6.50 feet (198 cm) long. The claws on an adult Grizzly are four inches long.

Dragon's blood is the crimson red sap of the dragon tree. The tree is unusual and looks like an open umbrella. The only place in the world where it grows is on four small islands, the Socotra archipelago, in the Indian Ocean. The islands are about 150 miles east of the Horn of Africa.

FORT DOBBS HISTORY & REENACTOR DAY

7/6/2015

Gov. Dobbs on Hugh Waddell "every way qualified for such a command, as he is young, active and resolute."

Most Americans from elementary school on have at least been more or less introduced to the Vietnam War, World Wars 1 & 2, the American Civil War, the Mexican-American conflict and earlier Revolution. The French and Indian War, in its way, was just as important to the country, for if the French had won that war, those of us east of the Appalachians may be the only English speakers within a small number of states and/or nation, if those.

There are only about a dozen or so sites in the U.S. park service dedicated to this most important mid-1700s engagement that was in its wider implications called The Seven Years' War in some parts of the world. The contest lasted from 1754 to 1763. This article on the Once Upon a History pages of the Carolinian's Archives will largely concentrate on Fort Dobbs history during this conflict and its present reenactors just north of the city of Statesville in the western Piedmont region of NC. It is a very interesting and mostly neglected history.

For those readers unfamiliar with the French and Indian War, or, as said, the Seven Years' War in Europe and elsewhere, we'll start out with why it came about and its connection to Fort Dobbs. Now, when some of us think of American forts, the Wild West often comes to mind. But in the mid-18th century that frontier was in the backcountry of the Atlantic Eastern Seaboard, which included the fort's area of North Carolina here.

The war began in 1754 between Great Britain and France for several reasons, with one being who was going to be boss past the Appalachians in America, to put it succinctly. Spain came on to France's side in 1761, but much too late to affect any difference. After the peace treaty of 1763 that saw a British victory, the English Crown tried to do its best to honor the dividing line between the Indian and settler partition, which was basically through the middle of the Eastern-most mountains; but this proved a very difficult boundary for them to enforce effectively.

Replica of fort inside museum

THE BEGINNIGS AND CAUSES OF THE FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR IN NC

This article won't go through a lot about this international war unless it is more relevant to Fort Dobbs. And believe me, there is more than enough there at that park to keep one interested and informed. North Carolina's royal authorities didn't really start to get too worried until after Braddock's Defeat in Pennsylvania in 1755. He made a major error by dividing his force some ways from his objective of French held Fort Pitt (Pittsburgh today). Close to the fort, his part of the army was ambushed mostly by French-Canadians and their native allies. It was a debacle with Braddock killed and with future president George Washington somehow miraculously surviving the horrid ambush, despite his uniform being absolutely riddled by musket balls.

It wasn't long after this that there was enough concern to start building stockades on the western front to protect against French regulars, their allies, and, increasingly, Cherokee warriors. The trouble with the latter tribe, was that despite a long-standing peace treaty between the two countries of the Cherokee confederation of villages
and Britain, power plays over goods to the tribes between France and England, and settler intrusions onto their hunting grounds, had started to rankle the tribe.

And then came problems with tragic consequences: Cherokee fighters returning from the north in service to the Brits against the French in 1757 and 1758, took the opportunity while passing through the southern mountains of Appalachia in Virginia, to appropriate to their tired and hungry selves some German backwoodsmens' cattle and horses. The settlers retaliated at times by slaying several dozen of these Native Americans. Who, by the way, were highly dissatisfied with their treatment while in action in the north, with its deficit of booty and bounties promised them by the English.

This was about the time several forts were constructed in the backcountry and coast of the Carolinas. Fort Dobbs being one of those begun in 1756 on the frontier line in N.C.. Below are special constructions made by the man who made the model fort which is inside the museum. He also kindly gave us permission to go into a locked building at the parking area and take photos of his other painstakingly built replica of Ft. Dobbs, where it opens up and folks can look inside. Some local school groups are shown this model fort too on occasion.

Oft produced painting of NC militia outside the completed fort

reenactor outside re-constructed soldier' barracks

THE STORY OF FORT DOBBS
There are only 13 historic places in America dedicated to the French and Indian War. North Carolina has one of those in the state historic site of Fort Dobbs. The dearth of these spots is sad due to the fact that the conflict was a global one for empire, primarily between Great Britain and France. The historic site is just north of Statesville off I-40 and is well worth visiting, especially on reenactor days, despite the situation that it has yet to have a reconstructed fort built because of the lack of funds to do so; but the perimeters of the former structure are clearly visible thanks to archeological work.

The war had been raging many years before it become of serious concern to the frontier people of the Carolinas. In 1756, the governor of the province, Dobbs, and his commander of the frontier units, Colonel Hugh Waddell, ordered several forts built in the state to protect settlers and friendly Native Americans from attacks and allow militia forces a place to stay, patrol, and defend their areas of influence.

After Braddock's defeat, the NC militia, which hadn't participated due to the General dividing his forces, retired to Fort Cumberland in Maryland with their numbers well below 200 now. In 1758 the garrison's company was decreased to about a hundred men. Hard currency was scare to come by in North Carolina at the time, for one thing, and the state's soldiers, thin and ill-clothed, were often the butt of jokes and pity by the soldiers of the northward parts of America. By the way, the soldier in the far left pic had many different kinds of muskets and picked just the right one to pose in for the correct era the war was in. That's dedication in reenacting for sure.

THE ANGLO-CHEROKEE WAR IN NORTH CAROLINA

Fort Dobbs Wiki Commons

As the attacks really started in earnest, they were devastating, especially in South Carolina. Most pioneers that could fled east or holed up in places like Dobbs and smaller stockades, if they could be reached in time. Many whites were killed or taken away by Overhill warriors that ranged into N.C. Two particular areas this happened at were cabins and farms on the Yadkin and Catawba rivers.

The Catawba Indians themselves sided with the frontier folk but had just been hit by a smallpox epidemic that reduced their numbers by more than half. Still, the warriors from the tribe did important fighting and service. They have their own 15 square mile land just below Charlotte in SC and have long been an integral part of the community thereabouts.

REENACTOR DAY

Riding down I-40 this past April of 2015 on a Saturday afternoon, we came to Statesville (about 50 miles above Charlotte) and saw the sign for historic Fort Dobbs. To our delight it was a reenactor day, unfortunately, without the Native American reenactors who participate in the reenactments on occasion.

Nevertheless we had an enjoyable time seeing the place, its museum, and talking with the reenactors who were there. Some were even going to stay overnight in the soldiers' barracks. Below are gallery's of them including a pivot cannon upon which a demonstration was given to all the curious visitors standing around.

Above are the cannon, well, and part of the fort's archaeologically excavated perimeter. No reconstructed fort yet but there may be plans to build one someday. The site mostly runs on donations and sponsorship with a little help from the state ( basically enough to turn on the lights according to one unnamed source). Which is a bit of a shame, really, considering the historical importance to North Carolina and the underrepresented French and Indian War in the U.S as a whole..

As a final interesting fact about the fort, early in 1760 the place was attacked by a Cherokee war band. Moderate casualties erupted between both sides - with the Cherokee incurring far more fatalities and wounds. It began one night when the garrison was alerted to something in the woods by their dogs barking. Hugh Waddell then took a group of men outside a-ways to investigate. They were ambushed, returned fire, and then retreated back
to the fort. They suffered several casualties, including one lad that almost made it into the fort but was caught and scalped near the well.

Thus began the Cherokee's attack and siege. As too strong a fortress, however, the warriors later went on to other targets. Bethabara (part of old Salem, Winston-Salem in total now) was only spared a major assault because of its ringing church bells and chimes. For some particular reason this dissuaded the Cherokee fighters from attacking the Moravian settlement.

Fort Dobbs is a great place to visit and well worth the time. There is the building open to visitors that holds many interesting things and is overseen by the knowledgeable and friendly Mike Lampart. Mike also made the fort replicas in the museum and locked building. The Author would also like to thank the helpful historic site manager Scott Douglas, and all the reenactors, including Patrick the soldier and Tim the Anglican minister.

Here are some pictures from the day with a man and his children, the cannon going-off, an attractive pioneer Lass or Frau with her family and dog, and, as just mentioned, there are a good many interesting items and artifacts to look at inside the museum. In addition there is also a short but very nice walking trail at the site.

For more detailed info concerning the place here is an official link:http://www.fortdobbs.org/

Stonewall Jackson, The Roundhouse of Martinsburg, West Virginia & the Civil War

5/21/2015

Debbie Allen

Once Upon a History is most pleased to present writer Debbie Allen's debut on The Carolinian's Archives. Debbie is an excellent writer on many subjects. Here she tells a fascinating story of historic Martinsburg, West Virginia's past, with an emphasis on the Roundhouse train station during the American Civil War which is on the U.S. National Register of Historic Places and a U.S. National Historic Landmark. This is also a peek into the remarkable career of Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson who many military historians the world over consider one of the finest tactical commanders in history.

A Unionist newspaper piece on September the 7th, 1861 stated: "Fourteen locomotives, a large number of railroad cars, nine miles of track, telegraph wires and about $40,000.00 worth of machinists' tools and materials, all belonging to the B&O Railroad, have been successfully hauled overland by the Confederates."

West Virginia State Marker

During the Civil War there were many battles of the North and the South. Martinsburg was once a hub of trade and goods the people of the time used. The addition of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad crossed through Martinsburg, West Virginia and brought with it a booming economical town during the Civil War. It is located on 13 acres along the Tuscarora Creek. The first Steam Engine was brought to the area in 1842 and in 1848 the first Roundhouse was built to support the workshops that worked on the Steam Engines.

Martinsburg was a boom town during the civil war. It was developed by General Adam Stephens in 1773. It was the county seat for the entire Berkeley and Jefferson Counties in 1820. The advent of the B&O railroad brought many businesses to the area. Hotels and large warehouses and, of course, housing for the workers who worked in many of the factories, railroad and businesses that popped up in the area. There were three main districts along the railroad and in the town of Martinsburg.

The Downtown District was the center of town at the corners of King and Queen Streets and still is the center of town. Some of the industry there were the Heller Carriage Shop that was built in 1892, Farmer Hotel, which now are apartments, built in 1813 was Norborne Hall and was a poor house at that time, Miles Store, John Street Grade school which just recently became the Magistrates Court. The Berkeley County Courthouse was built in 1855-1856. When you go into the building you can still see the original architecture with the pressed tin ceilings and old iron vaults and lighting. During the Civil War it was used by the northern soldiers. The infamous confederate spy, Belle Boyd, was held there after she was arrested.

In the Boomtown District a large number of housing was built when electricity was brought in. In that district you would find; Interwoven Mills, which was a men’s hosiery and became the largest manufacturer of men’s hosiery in the world.

Historic District was comprised of the B&O Railroad and industrial buildings. Among the districts that are located within Martinsburg are: Fitz-Mathews Foundry and was the oldest businesses in Martinsburg built before 1851, a former apple processing company became Hannis Distillery and National Fruit Company in 1867. Along Water Street the Adam Stephens House and the Triple Brick Building and since it was the major district located around the Railroad it was the place where most of the activities of the Civil War happened.

Train Tracks Outside Roundhouse

Because of tension in Martinsburg, Stonewall Jackson sent troops to defray any more violence. Tensions were caused by the fact that the rest of the state succeeded from Virginia that was confederate, but Martinsburg wanted to continue being Union and that was a great contention for Stonewall Jackson. In a 3-1 voted ratio the citizens decided that that was what they were going to do. Stonewall Jackson sent in troops to destroy the railroad, The Roundhouse and any buildings near it on July 20, 1861. The first battle, in Martinsburg, happened on June 14, 1863 and was a part of the Gettysburg Campaign. The second battle in the town of Martinsburg was on July 25, 1864 and it was part of the campaign to divide the Shenandoah Valley. By the end of the Civil War Martinsburg changed ownership over 30 times.

In May of 1861, shortly after West Virginia seceded from Virginia, you can read about how that threw everything into a panic here: http://mosltyghostlyhistorical.blogspot.com/2015/04/west-virginias-battle-to-become-new.html

Civil War Era Caboose

The B&O railroad was owned by Maryland, at the time, and they showed no loyalties to either side of the war. Martinsburg was the major hub, as you can see, and if he could stop the trains he would succeed in his plans.

In 1861 the troops of Stonewall Jackson pillaged and burned the Roundhouse, the major building and businesses. They completely destroyed 42 locomotives, 300+ rail cars, 36 miles of railroad track, 102 miles of Telegraph wire, 17 bridges along with the Roundhouse and all the workshops. 13 train cars were kept and used by the Confederate Army. It was a most horrible day for anyone who lived and worked in Martinsburg, West Virginia.

The Roundhouse was used to maintain, repair the Steam Engines and build freight cars that mostly transported coal. The turntable was used to bring in the cars or engines so the mechanics could fix or maintain various cars or engines. They were stored in the bays until read to use. 50 feet under the turntable was were the mechanics stood to repair and maintain the Steam Engines. Picture it being like the automobile oil changing stations we have today. The various workshops made parts for the Engines such as Frog and Switch points and they specialized in those. They are the parts on the train that guided the wheels from one set of railroad tracks to another. They got the name because that is what they looked like in those days. Picture this as you would be driving down the road and you are moving the steering wheel to go onto a ramp to your exit. In the shops beyond the Frog and Switch shop were many other shops that made various other parts including a blacksmith. The blacksmith made anything from making the axels to sharpening tools used to make train and railroad parts. Some of the components were shipped from Baltimore, Maryland. The components were ready to be put together when they arrived.

Above the high rising dome ceiling were the vents that allowed the steam to escape. The whole building was designed and built by an immigrant engineer by the name of Albert Fink.

Inside Roundhouse

After the destruction of the Roundhouse and all the railroads Martinsburg began reconstructing between 1866 and 1872. During the years 1877-1988 the Martinsburg Roundhouse was used as they were also transferring operations to Brunswick, Maryland. Again, it was almost destroyed by looters in 1990. In 1999-2000 the Berkeley County Roundhouse Authority was created and their mission was to restore as much of the roundhouse as they could with keeping the original architecture intact. The Roundhouse at Martinsburg was designated as a National Historical Landmark.

The Roundhouse in Martinsburg was built with cast iron and is the only Roundhouse that still exists in the world today. There were at least 5 other Roundhouses of this kind at the time.

Today it is used for transporting of goods and shipments. Amtrak is also doing business there and so are the MARC trains. Though it has a long history of serving the people of this state and has had its days and destroyed, it is with the help of the people that we should continue on. West Virginia and the Eastern Panhandle steeps in history from the Civil War and it is part of our America’s heritage.

THE PATRIOT MOVIE CONTROVERSY/ THE SWAMP FOX DEFENDS SNOW'S ISLAND

2/18/2015

The following anecdote may be interesting or even humorous to some readers so we'll start out this article on Once Upon a History with it. Driving down one day in the summer of 1999 to a county in South Carolina to pay my respects at the gravesite of a relative, a whimsical idea came to mind. Several days before I'd seen on the news where casting calls for a movie called The Patriot were taking place at a college campus in the aforementioned state. What the heck I thought, why not give it a try and see what happens?

When I drove to the school my heart dropped on seeing what appeared to be over a thousand folks standing in line with the same idea. But growing up largely in the piedmont region of the Carolinas, where so much had happened concerning the American Revolutionary War, and having it become such a part of my heritge as a child, I just naturally had to get in line for a try-out. Suspecting nothing would probably come of it, imagine the surprise when a few weeks later a Columbia Pictures casting dude called me at home with some very exciting news.

Seems the director was considering choosing between a few of us for the role of the French patriot hero Lafayette. The casting fellow said don't cut your hair and we'll let you know soon about his choice. Four weeks went by with no word - all the while as my hair grew and became shaggy, not to mention my practicing a French accent (just in case) and telling a few friends about my hopefully good fortune. Well, come the four or five weeks passing, I became impatient and with caller ID to hand I rang him back. The answer was matter-of-fact and rather lacking in any sympathy: " Oh, the director decided not to use that character." Click.

What a let down! They could have at least had the decency to call us sooner so we could have gotten a haircut! Not so funny an incident back then - but with the passing of years I can at least chuckle about the whole thing now a bit; besides, I quit playing soldiers as a youngster ( although I do admire and respect re-enactors) and enjoy writing articles on the Revolutionary War era in the South a lot more than those childhood imaginings anyway...well, almost as much. So with that little remembrance out of the way here's some on the movie controversy and the story of the Fox's defense of his favorite hideout that I hope the reader will enjoy..

Mel Gibson in The Patriot

The Patriot (2000) Movie Controversy

"Well, now, this is exactly my case. I am in love; and my sweetheart is LIBERTY." ~ Francis Marion

One of the most controversial film releases of the new millennium came at its beginning with Roland Emmerich's release of The Patriot, starring Mel Gibson. The movie was produced by Mutual Film Company and Centropolis Entertainment and distributed by Columbia Sony Pictures.

The movie is partly based on the combining of several American Revolutionary War battles and the historical figures Francis "The Swamp Fox" Marion, Daniel Morgan, Thomas Sumter, Andrew Pickens, and one or two others. Gibson's character in the film "Benjamin Martin" is an amalgamation of these warriors, leaders and patriots.

Criticism for the film came from many corners, two being op-eds and reviews in some of the British press, who bandied about Francis Marion as if he were some kind of "serial rapist who hunted Red Indians for fun".
The telling point is, there is absolutely no historical evidence for such behavior by the man at all. In fact, there is evidence from his diary that he had sympathy for the tribe and their destroyed lower towns. So, he did fight as a youngster in the tragic Anglo-Cherokee War, which was anything but "fun" for all those concerned in that grim blood-letting during the Seven Years' War, or French and Indian War as it's called in America.

Others - including director Spike Lee and his wife - were more than a bit miffed at what they considered a cover-up concerning how African Americans were, or, rather weren't, depicted in the movie's screenplay.

On the other hand, Mel Gibson has been quoted as saying that in his opinion it was a cop-out not to show Benjamin Martin, or as that infers, Francis Marion, as a slave owner. Marion in fact did have some bondsmen at the start of the war, which was almost de rigueur for a man of his time, place, and social position. However, it's also in the historical records that there were occasionally free black militiamen in the Swamp Fox's partisan bands at different periods of time, too.

There were other complaints as to the historical authenticity of the movie with the combining of the characters and battles, in addition to more than a few contrived incidents and dramatic situations- including Martin's prettied-up, rather over-large nuclear family.. Another major criticism was Colonel Tavington's burning of the church with the hapless parishioners trapped inside it. Tavington was loosely based on the British cavalry leader under Cornwallis, Banastre Tarleton.

This house of worship massacre did not happen in actuality, and has been used by some critics as proof the German director and others were trying to paint the British as Nazis in moviegoers' minds. Obviously the scene was written into the screenplay for dramatic effect, and to give Heath Ledger's character a reason for an attempted quick revenge on Tavington, as Ledger's newlywed and her family had been among the destroyed.

There can be no doubt, however, that "Bloody Ban" Tarleton could be a cruel and ruthless individual to any he perceived as traitors to King George lll and the British Empire. He proved the point over and over during the long war and, apart from some of his military achievements, is not respected or remembered affectionately by Americans, to say the least.. As an interesting side note to Tarleton's life outside America, many years later, when he was back in England, he broke the beautiful romantic poet Mary Robinson's heart asunder in the debris of that doomed but passionate relationship.

For a further breakdown on all the pros and cons concerning almost every aspect of the production, one only need search for "The Patriot Movie Controversy" on the net as some readers may have done to find this article. There are others that are more thorough concerning the matter, certainly. Of all the many events depicted in the picture, perhaps some of the most accurate historically, are the scenes where Mel Gibson's partisans are in their deep swamp hideouts with all the action and drama that takes place in or near them.

Despite the liberal use of artistic license and post-release controversy, The Patriot is a decent movie that at least gives the viewer a feel for the Revolutionary War era in the South. Mel Gibson, the late Heath Ledger, Lisa Brenner, Jason Issacs, and many others give good acting performances in it, and the costuming, props and sets were meticulously researched and presented as well.

But, to sum it all up in a somewhat different light, the serious soldier reenactors hired were told first thing, "this is a movie, not a documentary." Uh-oh, was their initial thought on hearing this, and was only further confirmed when busloads of newly hired men - basically off the streets according to the serious reenactor and military state park guide who told me this - were bussed down from Charlotte to help fill-out the final big battle scene. He also mentioned a lot of foam was used, but I'm not sure what he meant as to the way foam was applied in the props. To end this part of the article we'll go out on a good note. The fellow did say the gig paid very well indeed.

The following story will cover the March 1781 attempt by the British allied American loyalist forces to destroy the patriot fighters and their most frequented wilderness base and place of refuge, Snow's Island, South Carolina.

And to that action-packed adventure we now turn.

Marion astride his Horse "Ball"

SNOW"S ISLAND

Snow's Island served as the Swamp Fox's favorite wilderness hideout during the mild winter of 1780-1781. The large island is located at the junction of the Pee Dee and Lynches Rivers in Florence Co. South Carolina. The camp itself was later discovered to have been in an ancient meteor crater.

Marion stayed active in this swampy fastness while the American regulars and militia gave full employment to the British army and its allied forces elsewhere in the Carolinas. Marion's own little brigade had tangled with the Loyalists, or Tories, with an ardor and love of liberty similar to that which Greene and his soldiers so often displayed.

The Loyalists' pitiless murders, savage excesses, and wanton cruelties - their forced entries into homes, their arson's, their raging curses and rapes, had put them completely beyond the pale of what was expected behavior between the military and non-combats of their day and time.

"No quarter to the Tories!" soon became the yell of Marion's men when going into action. And with this furious spirit, guided by the intelligence and craftiness of their leader, the deadly work of these partisans was as sure and speedy as their mood was now unmerciful and vindictive.

To simply defeat their foes was not the only reason for which they fought. To totally annihilate these homegrown enemies had now become their main objective. Indeed, so resolute and lively had they proved themselves capable, that to root out and destroy these hyper-vigilant rebel warriors had become as difficult as it could possibly be.

Indeed, the first to take on Marion in this nasty civil war unwrapped inside a revolution, had been Banastre Tarlton and his cavalry, who failed in this Lord Cornwallis directed effort miserably. Now came another turn for the relentless Tories, who hated the Fox's men almost as much as they did them...And it should be kept in mind, that this article is only a partial part of the very many actions the Fox and his men engaged in during the war against the Brits and their allies.

A joint attempt to liquidate Marion and his men was arranged between two loyalist colonels named Watson and Doyle. The former was to move down from Camden along the Santee River, while the latter was to move across Lynch's Creek and follow its course on the eastern bank. They were then to unite their forces near Snow's Island, known as the favorite hiding place of the wily rebellion men.

Due to unforeseen circumstances, however, Doyle was to fall behind in the Tory officers' hopes for a timely and successful rendezvous. This mischance of war was to prove decisive in Marion's favor as we shall now see.

Marion offers sweet potatoes to a captured British officer

THE TORIES APPROACH

When Marion first learned of the approach of Watson he led his whole force out to meet him. At the head of the marsh, nearly opposite of what's left off the old Santee canal, he laid an ambush, placing it under command of a Captain Conyers. At this time he was not heavy on rounds of ammunition for each fighter in his outnumbered band. But what he did have was put to an accurate and devastating use.

Marion's order to an officer named Horry was to give two musket-fires, and then quickly retreat. A second ambuscade was placed in an adjacent situation that appeared to hold distinct advantages. This was manned by a party of cavalry under Captain Conyers.

Horry's men gave their fire to good effect, and then as ordered, retired. Watson, having made good his trek through the swamp, sent a detachment of cavalry under a Major Harrison in hot pursuit of Horry. This detachment was encountered by Conyers, who killed Harrison, mano a mano, face-to-face, with his bare hands according to legend.

The Tory soldiers were now somewhat dispersed after suffering many losses from the charge of Conyers. Marion, not quite strong enough to assail his opponents openly, continued in this way to frustrate their progress and enfeeble their force; until at length the redcoats reached the lower bridge on the Black River, eight miles or so from the hideout. Here Colonel Watson made a feint of taking the road to Georgetown and the Sampit River. The Swamp Fox then took an advantageous position on the same road.

Suddenly wheeling about, Watson changed his course and gained possession of the bridge on its western side. This gave him an opening to a very important path, which led into the center of Snow's Island. The river on the west side ran under a high bluff, the ground on the east was low, and the stream, though usually fordable, was at the time so swollen by rain it overflowed the river's banks and appeared as if it might do so to the bridge.

This flooding brought the Loyalist colonel up short. While he hesitated in deciding what to do, the less wary partisan fighters plunged right in and safely reached the opposite side of the river. With this done, they hurried forward to occupy the eastern end of the bridge. Marion then detached a Major James with seventy shooters - thirty of whom were under the command of an officer named McCottry - to torch the bridge. This leader's men are sometimes referred to as McCottry's Rifles.

THE BRIDGE IS FIRED - THE TORIES REPLUSED

NOTE: [above are photos of the Lumber River near the North and South Carolina line. Although not the site of the battle, it gives a good look at what the areas Marion operated along were sometimes like. Indeed, on occasion this very site may have been a place he and his men traveled along or crossed over to secure prisoners of war or for other reasons. Because of the ecology of the region, rivers and streams are often a blackish color.]

The riflemen were posted to good advantage under cover of the trees and thickets on the river bank. The attempt by the Patriots to burn the bridge, drew upon them the intense and deadly fire of Watson's horse artillery.

Marion had provided against this likelihood however, with the result being that the artillery crew of the Tories were just about picked off one by one by McCottry's marksmen, as fast as they approached to put their matches to the cannon in fact.

The bridge was burned and quickly consumed in the face of the loyalists, who damaged and confused, turned from their pursuit of the Americans, and proceeded by forced marches to the town of Georgetown and seeming safety on the coast. But Watson was not so fortunate as to leave behind him the foe who his hunt for had now fully awakened into a persevering action against himself.

The Swamp Fox hung upon his retreat - now firing on his flanks - now up in his front, again roughing up the Colonel's rear, while his snipers exacted a heavy toll from the enemy at every mile in their hurried journey. Watson at last reached the British stronghold of Georgetown, as the implacable partisans followed his fleeing footsteps up until the very last moment before reaching the town's environs and its garrison.

Never had a man been more harried and harassed. The chief compliant of Watson, that Marion wouldn't fight like a Christian gentleman, has passed down to Americans over the centuries as somewat ludicrous and hypocritical; especially considering the terrors wrought by the Tories on innocent families whose homes and crops they burned and destroyed. In all fairness though, it should be said that the same destruction was often inflicted on them by their independence-minded foes as well.

GENERAL MARION CAPTURES GEORGETOWN AND UNITES WITH GENERAL GREENE'S ARMY

Colonel Doyle, the companion officer of Watson, was encountered in a similar manner and with the same results. A single strife drove him back upon Camden, with a not inconsiderable loss in men, and a greater deprivation in cartridge boxes, horses, gunpowder and ball.

This engagement was followed up on the part of Marion's stalwart force by a sharp contest with another group of loyalists, who were routed after a hard brawl that saw stiff casualties on both sides, which included the redcoats leader being slain. A nephew of Marion's also fell mortally wounded during this severe action.

In his second attack of the war on Georgetown, which the Swamp Fox and Light-horse Harry Lee (Robert E. Lee's father) made around this time, his brigade was more successful, than an earlier, first attempt had been. It finally fell into his hands; but was afterwards set afire at night by an armed party from a British vessel afloat the Sampit River, and forty or fifty buildings and homes were reduced to ashes.

After the return of General Greene, which followed the battle at Guildford Courthouse in North Carolina, and Lord Cornwallis's subsequent flight to Yorktown, Virginia, Marion ceased to act alone and independently. His brigade of partisan fighters - of what today we would call a "band of brothers"- became integrated with those of the liberating American Continentals and militia in the Carolinas.

General Francis Marion would go on to lead his compatriots and others to glory in such battles as Eutaw Springs, and other notable actions in what remained of their war for freedom and self-rule. And in conclusion to this story, it's certainly no exaggeration to say, that the Swamp Fox went above and beyond the call of duty for that which he believed in and loved, and of that fact, there can be no controversy whatsoever.

Francis "the Swamp Fox" Marion's resting place

Odin - the Wise Woman- Ragnarok - the Final Destiny of the Gods

11/14/2014

"The hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands,
to fight the horde, singing and crying: Valhalla, I am coming!" ~Robert Plant

What a better way to end Phyllis's three part series on here than with the final destiny of Odin, Ragnaro, the Wise Woman and the Gods.

Phyllis, we thank you. Her fantastic site can be accessed at http://phyllisdoyle.hubpages.com

Odin - the Wise Woman- Ragnarok - the Final Destiny of the Gods by Phyllis Doyle

Norse mythology-

Odin, father of all gods in Norse mythology, calls upon the Wise Woman, to find out about Ragnarok, the final destiny of the gods in this final battle, there will be the demise of many heroes and gods as foretold in the poem ( The Wise Woman's Prophecy), the most famous of all the poems in the Poetic Edda.

Odin the Wanderer (1896) by Georg von Rosen Source: Wikipedia Public Domain - Odin

The Poetic Edda, often referred to as the Elder Edda, is the most important extant source of Norse mythology. It is a collection of ancient Old Norse poems contained in the Codex Regius, an Icelandic manuscript which was written int eh 1270's. Many of the stanzas of the Voluspa are also in the Prose Edda of the 13th century, by the Icelandic historian and poet Snorri Sturluson.

Odin, the Allfather

Odin is the powerful god of the EEsir (Nose pantheon), the father of all gods, in the Voluspa Odin visits a volva,m a shamanic seeress adept in sorcery and prophecy. A volva was highly esteemed and possessed power that surpassed even those of Odin.

Odin wishes to gain the Widsom of the Ages with the help of the Volva, whom he bids to rise from her grave. He is always very aware of impending disasters and continually seeks more knowledge. He calls upon the Volva and she demands a hearing wherein she relates all of the past from Creation forward. All the stanzas herein of the poem come from Volumn 1 of The Poetic Edds, Lays of the Gods, Voluspa.

Odin the Wanderer (1896) by Georg von Rosen Source: Wikipedia Public Domain - Odin

The first disaster for the gods-

Before going further, the Volva recalls the death of Baldr.

The first great disaster to the gods defines Loki as an enemy and outcast of the gods in AEsir. This disaster was the death of Baldr, the son of Odin and Frigg. Baldr was the god of light, The Shining One. He had a dream of his own death by an arrow and sought Frigg to tell her. She had the same dream on same night. She loved Baldr beyond all, so called upon all the trees and plants of the woods. She made them swear that no part of them would ever harm Baldr. All the plants made an oath to her, all except the mistletoe. Frigg thought the mistletoe too yundgand fragile to swear an oath.

It had become a great game for the young gods to shoot arrows at Baddr and watch them bounce off, not harming him. Loki, the troublemaker, found out about the mistletoe and made an arrow from it He gave the arrow to Hoth, the blind younger brother of Baldr. Happy to be a part ot the game, Hoth hurled the arrow which struck and killed Baldr.

the Volva relates this event to Odin

32. I saw for Baldr, the bleeding god,
The Son of Othin, his destiny set
Famous and fair in the lofty fields,
Full grown in strength the mistletoe stood.

Another of Odin's Vali, slew Hoth. Great was the sorrow of Odin and Frigg. The gods then took Loki and bound him to a tree with a serpent fastened to the tree just above Loki's head. Venom of the serpent constantly dripped down. Loki's wife, Sigyn, stays beside him with a bowl to catch the venom. When the bowl is full, she has to leave to empty it and the venom drips over Loki's face. Earth shook from the struggles of Loki.

`Odin and the Völva (1895) by Lorenz Frølich - Source: Wikipedia Public Domain - Odin

The Volva

The Volva was once called Gullveig by all who knew her. It is uncertain if Gullveig was a goddess or a sorceress. The AEsir had executed her by spearing then burning her. Three times they did this and three times she came back. After the third time she was called by the name Heior, meaning "fame" in Old Norse.

Several scholars have proposed that Gullveig may have been the goddess Freyja. If she had been Freyja, it could have been the cause, or at least one, of the AEsir-Vanir War, the first war of the world. Freyja was a member of the Vanir. As a VAnir goddess, she was adept in witchcraft. Her husband was Oor, a member of the AEsir. Oor often went on long journeys, leaving Freyja alone. She traveled in disguise under many different names searching for Oor. The Vanir would have been furious if Freyja was in face Gullveig, executed by the AEsir, and would have sought revenge.

1. Hearing I ask from the holy races,
From Heimdall's sons, both high and low,
Thou wild, Valfather, that well I relate
Old tales I remember of men long ago.

2. I remember yet the giants of yore,
Who gave me bread in the days gone by,
Nine worlds I knew, the nine in the tree
With mightly roots beneath the mold

Heimdall is the watchman of the gods. His sons (brethren of kin) both high and low are the gods and mankind in general. She refers to Odin as "Valfather", because all the brave and good stain warriors in battles are brought to him in Valhalla (Hall of the Stain) where they are given immortality till they are to fight in Ragnarok. The nine worlds of the tree are the non worlds (levels) of the gods in Yggdrasil, the World Tree. It s roots reach far down in Earth and its branches reach to Heaven. Its arms spread out over all the world.

The Æsir lift Gullveig on spears over fire as illustrated by Lorenz Frølich (1895)

The Volva recounts events far into the past, including things only Odin knows, and far into the future she tell fo things Odin wishes to know.

The Voluspa

When Odin first begins talking with the Volva, there is a formality wherein they each must test each other. She must present proof of the abilities as a Wise Woman and seeress. Odin muse therefore listen to her tales of the past and acknowledge her wisdom as truth. The Volva tell Odin she know where the horn of Heimdall, watchman of the gods, is hidden under Yggdrasil. This is the horn that Heimdall will blow to summon the gods to counsel before the final battle.

27. I know of the horn of Heimdall, hidden
Under the high-reaching holy tree;
On it there pours from Valfather's pledge
A mighty stream would you know yet more?

The Volva changes directions here and addresses Odin directly. Although Odin has not told her why he called her up, she knows what he wants and how much he has endured in his constanbt search for knowledge of his own doom, in an earlier journey for knowledge. Odin had gone to the well of Mimir, The Well of Wisdom. The well was named after Mimir, a man who had counseled other wisely. Mimir asked for sacrifice if Odin wanted to see future events. He told Odin that if he wanted to be a seer he must put one of his eyes in the well, so Odin sacrificed one eye. He also pledged to bring mead to Mimir each morn for more knowledge.

Mimir had been a counselor to Hoenir, a chieftain the gods thought was very wise. When the gods found out that it was Mimir who gave the the wisdom to Hoenir, they beheaded Mimir and sent the head to Odin in Asgard. Odin embalmed the head and spoke charms over it so the head could counsel Odin the secrets and many things. Odin carried the head with him everywhere. The body of Mimir had been thrown in a well where Odin found it.

The Ash Yggdrasil, by Wilhelm Wagner, 1896 - Source: Wikipedia Public Domain - Yggdrasil

The Volva asks Odin (the Old One) , "What questions do you have? Why have you come here? She proceeds to tell Odin she knows where his eye is.

28. Alone I sat when the Old One sought me,
The terror of gods, and gazed in mine eyes:
"What hast thou to ask? why com est thou hither?
Odin, I know where thine eye is hidden."

29. I know where Odin's eye is hidden,
Deep in the wide-famed well of Mimir,
Mead from the pledge of Odin each mom
Does Mirmir drink: would you know yet more?

30. Necklaces had I and rings from Heerfather,
Wise was my speech and my magic wisdom,
Widely I saw over all the worlds.

When she asks, "would you know yet more?" she is relating to Odin that she has proved her knowledge of the past and of the secrets he holds. Odin in turn acknowledges her wisdom and had rewarded her with jewelry, which is an indication to tell him more. She refers to Odin as "Heerfather" (father of the Host). Line 30 brings Odin and the Volva to the point where they both accept that the past she relates to is true and she will now transition to the future and the real reason Odin has come to here.

Loki and Sigyn (1863) by Mårten Eskil Winge Source: Wikipedia Public Domain - Loki

In the Prose Edda, Loki is introduced formally in chapter 34 of the book Gylfaginning. He is referred to as the "originator of deceits" and " the disgrace of all gods and men". Odin and Loki had once been friends and there was a time when Odin said he would not drink mead unless Loki was with him. All the deceits of Lori, all the sorrow he caused had broken the friendship.

Future destiny of the gods-

Then the Volva comes to the heart of the knowledge Odin seeks: the events of the future where he asks her many questions. Among many other things, the Volva sees the final destiny of the gods and Odin's doom during Ragnarok.

The seeress tells Odin of how floods will overwhelm Earth and fires so fierce the flames will leap as high as Heaven while the gods fight to their death with their enemies. She says the Valkyries will bring the slain warriors in AEsir of all past battles to aid Odin and other gods.

Loki, now free of his bindings, will lead the evil gods and the wicked slain ones from Hell's domain.

Will there be survivors?

Odin asks if there will be any survivors of Ragnarok and will Earth itself survive. She says there will be two survivors, Lif and Liftharasir, who will survive by living in a cave and eventually they will repopulate Earth.

The Volva sees Earth rising again, in all its glory. What was beautiful before will be even more so. Fields that once were barren and unsewn will bear fruit. Lush areas of green will spawn new growth and the seas will be abundant with fish and all manner of sea life.

59. Now do I see the earth anew
Rise all green from the waves again,
The cataracts fall, and the eagle flies,
And fish he catches beneath the cliffs.

Walkyrien (c. 1905) by Emil Doepler Source: Wikipedia Public Domain - Valkyries

How fare the gods?

Odin asks "How fare the gods?" Some of the AEsir, gods, will return and tell of the deeds of Odin, his sons and others who fought bravely and honorably. They will tell how the fires destroyed Earth and how she was claimed by the sea. Baldr, Odin's beloved son who was slain long before Ragnarok because of the deceitful god Loki, will return.

Ragnarok-

In stanzas 40 through 42, the Volva foretells how the freat battle begins.

40. The giantess old in Ironwood sat,
In the east, and bore the brood of Fenrir:
Among these one in monster's guise
Was soon to steal the sun from the sky.

41. There he feeds full on the flesh of the dead,
And the home of the gods he reddens with gore,m
Dark grows the sun, and in summer soon
Come mighty storms: would you know yet more?

42. On al hill there sat,m and smote on his harp,
Eggther the joyous, the giants' warder:
Above him the cock in the bird-wood crowned,
Fair and red did Fjalar stand.

The giantess was married to Fenrir, a wold. The brood of Fenrir are their sons, the wolves
Skoll and Hati. Skoll steals the sun and Hati steals the moon. Eggther is the watchmnan of the giants. Fjalar is the cock whose crowing screech awakens the giants for the battle, Gollinkambi is the cock who awakens the gods of AEsir.

43. Then to the gods crowed Gollinkambi,
He wakes the heroes in Othin's hall,
And beneath the earth does another crow,
The rust-red bird ath the bars of Hel.

44. Now Garm howls loud before Gripahellir,
The fetters will burst, and the wolf run free,
Much do I know, and more can see
Of the fate of the gods, the might in light.

Gripahellir is the entrance to Hel's world of the dead. Garm is the dog, in some stanzas referred to as a wold, thatr guards the gate of Hel.

45 -Brothers shall fight and fell each other,
And sister's sons shall kinship stain,
Hard is it on earth, with mighty wwhoredom,
Axe-time, sword-time, shields are sundered,
Wind-time, wolf-time, ere the world falls,
Nor ever shall men each other spare.

The Volva tells of how brothers will turn against each other and how nephews (sisters sons) will turn against their uncles (kindship). The relationship between men and their nephews was often closer than fathers and sons.

46. Fast move the sons of Mirn, and fate
Is heard in the note of the Gjallarhom,
Loud blows Heimdall, the horn is alot,
In fear quake all who on Hel-roads are.

The sons of Mirn are spirits of the water. Mirm was the one who asked Odin for his eye at Mimer's well. Gjallarhorn the horn shrieks as Hiemdall blows it hard with all his mnight, rendering fear in the warriors of Hel.

47. Yggdrasil shakes, and shiver on high
The ancient limbs, and the giant is loose,
To the head of Mirn does Othin give heed,
But the kinsman of Surt shall slay him soon.

Odin leads the gods of AEsir to the battle, Loki, now free of his bindings, leads the evil ones. Just as the most brave and good of the slain warriors were taken to Odin for the final battle, the most evil were taken to the goddess Hel to aid in the battle against Odin. Hel had sent the evil ones to Loki.

Líf and Lífthrasir, by Lorenz Frølich, 1895 Source: Wikipedia Public Domain - Ragnarok

Then the Awful Fight Began by George Wright, 1908 - Source: Wikipedia Public Domain -

The mighty gods fight against the enemy, the creatures of the evil, like the giant serpent, and those gods who lead the evil ones. Many die as the venomous serpent twists and turns in his wrath. The tawny eagle, as it gnaws on the dead screams. Thor, Odin's powerful son and second in command, advances and strikes a death blow to the serpent. The venom from the serpent suffocates Thor, he staggers nine paces then falls dead.

Garm the wolf who guards Griiipahellir, at the gates of Hel breaks free of his chains and Odin fights him. The battle is fierce, the Allfather strong and might, but Garm and slays Odin.

Sigfather is Odin. Vithar is Odin's son who fights the wolf. The Garm is a son of a great Vithar thrust his sword deep in the heart of the wolf and kills him, thereby aventging his father'd death.

52. Surt fares from the south with the scourge of branches,
The sun of the battle-gods shone from his sword,
The crags are sundered, the giant-women sink.,
The dead throng Hel-way, and heaven is cloven.

Surt is the ruler of the fire-world. He came from the sough with branches of fire, the sun shining brightly off his sword.

53. Now comes to Hlin yet another hurt,
When Othin fares to fight with the wolf,
And Beli's fair slayer seeks out Surt,
For there must fall the joy of Frigg.

In horror Frigg (Hlin) had watched the death of Odin, her love, her joy. With the loss of Baldr and now Odin, she is alone in deep sorrow. Beli's fair slayer if the god Freyr, brother of Freyja. He had killed the giant Beli with just his fist.

Vithar, Odin's son avenges his father's death, as the Volva relates:

54. Then comes Sigfather's mighty son,
Vithar, to fight with the foaming wolf,
In the giant's son does he thrust his sword,
Full to the heart: his father is avenged.

The battle rages in fury never before seen and the mighty will fall. Fire will engulf Earth and black will be the day from its smoke.

57. The sun turns black, Earth sinks in the sea,
The hot stars down from heaven are whirled;
Fierce grows the steam and the life-feeding flame,
Till fire leaps high about heaven itself.

With stanza 57, we have the account of the horrible destruction of mighty gods and Earth. In the rest of the stanzas she speaks of the new world and those who inhabit it.

The New World-

After Ragnarok, 1905, by Emil Doepler (1855 - 1922) Source: Wikipedia Public Domain - Voluspa

Battle of the Widow Moore's Creek Bridge

11/5/2014

Dedicated to Veterans Day ~ November 11th 2014

And if this is your army, why does it go? ~ William Wallace

Driving some parts of Coastal North Carolina are almost like the long, level, and straight stretches of the Great Plains. The main difference of course being the latter place has roads that are much longer and the former has ones that are often through swampy areas, thick woods and other flora.

Indeed, even today near the park, in a car on some of the back roads leading to the site, the isolation can make one feel a part of that time now almost two hundred and forty years ago. Yes, sometimes one can ride several miles in the middle of the day and see nary another vehicle, home, building or person.

As we know through the suffering and death of loved ones, whether they be humans or any other mammal on this earth capable of giving and receiving affection, it is often a more painful experience to experience their travails than our own sufferings. The thought of early demises and deep sorrow must certainly have been on the minds of many friends and family members come the night of February 26th 1776 in the Scottish camps and their communities along and near the upper Cape Fear River.

The next mourning was to bring these forebodings to reality in spades.

Memorial Stone at Park

Crossroads near the scene of action

The Revolutionary War in America had been raging for almost a year before the Battle at Moore's Creek Bridge occurred in North Carolina, nearly twenty miles north of the colonial port town of Wilmington. So far, the southern portion of the thirteen colonies had mostly escaped any fighting. Whatever had happened in that vein, however, was to swiftly change into something a good bit more serious come the morning hours of February the 27th 1776.

A GATHERING Of SCOTS
It must have been magnificent, like something out of the movie Braveheart, with Mel Gibson as William Wallace
riding back and forth in front of his Scots army at the Battle of Stirling Bridge, inspiring them for the victory to come against King Edward I's overconfident earls and their army of heavy horse, footmen and archers..

A similar scene presented itself in the middle of February 1776 at Cross Creek, N.C., where the city of Fayetteville is now. The scene has a mature lass and mother named Flora McDonald, riding back and forth, on a great white charger, in front of some 1600 transplanted Highlanders, largely out-fitted in their bagpipes, trews and kilts,
urging them on to battle and to be faithful to king and country.

This action by the inspiring woman was certainly meant, as Flora and her husband Alan, had a new home on the upper reaches of the Cape Fear River that remained loyal to the British Empire. There were still many such insular communities at this time. She and Alan had emigrated out of Scotland to this area right after the war had begun, causing concern for members of the port town of New Bern, where they landed, by men of the patriotic North Carolina's Committee of Safety.

Indeed, Flora and Alan were well known loyalist subjects of the British. After the defeat of Bonnie Prince Charlie's attempt to put the Stuart line back on the throne by besting King George ll's son the Duke of Cumberland at Culloden, Scotland, in 1746, the girl supposedly did something memorable. Flora hid the Bonnie Prince, who was dressed as a woman, amongst the rocks while dancing what later came to be called the Flora MacDonald's Fancy to divert those seeking his capture.

And even though the Duke was successful at Culloden, his brutal follow-up rampaging throughout Scotland, allowing his victorious but vicious army to rape and kill at will, forever dashed any chance he had of gaining the kingship himself, which was to go the son of his elder brother George lll in 1760.

However, well before the time of the Battle at Moore's Creek Bridge, Flora and her powerful clan had reconciled with the Hanoverian crown and whatever King George sat upon its thrown. In fact, it is doubtful any more faithful to the monarchy could be found in North Carolina at the time then than the MacDonalds and a few others in the Highland Scot communities residing in the eastern half of the state. However, the Scotch-Irish in the western half of North Carolina and the Watuagan settlements of what later became the northeastern part of Tennessee , were often a different matter altogether.

The March of the Highlander

As the Highlanders began their trek from Cross Creek, led by Flora's husband and others, they planned on giving full attention to trouncing the rebels outside Wilmington or any other patriots in their path. This small army certainly hoped for glory and to gain the accolades of the homefolk and Royalist governor, Josiah Martin.

Earlier in 1776, the N.C. loyalist governor Martin commanded the loyalist militia to gather together in strength to put down any concentration of Patriot fighting forces. But so far as southeastern North Carolina went, the freedom-seeking fighters mobilized effectively enough to prevent those wanting to thwart their desires from concentrating against them in serious battle, at least through 1775, that is.

Highlander, Militiaman and NC Patriot

Scots Approach Bridge

Come February the 15th, patriot Colonel James Moore marched out of Wilmington with nearly 700 men of the 1st NC Continentals, a regular unit full of fight. Soon they were within seven miles or so of the main Highlander bivouac.

Over the next several days they were joined by a couple hundred militia, or minutemen as they were known then, several more regulars and basically, men straight off the farms and from the villages. A formidable and determined set of soldiers they were to be sure.

At this time the royal governor passed onto to Moore a proclamation imploring him to join the loyalists ranks. Colonel Moore replied back to Martin with a copy of the North Carolina Test Oath which advised avoiding any effusion of blood by joining the Patriot forces.

Unsurprisingly, neither accepted the others' proposal.

The Moore's Creek Bridge was a sturdy if ramshackle structure made of pinewood and centered in a swamp. The creek was an unusual one for the area, fast-moving on its way into the Black River, which was ten miles above its confluence with the mighty Cape Fear River.

Before the Declaration of Independence was ratified in Philadelphia in June of 1776, the conflict had raged for over a year. Most of the fighting had been done in the North-- not in the lower half of the thirteen colonies. Prior to this date there had been a few minor dust-up's in the South between those seeking self-rule and those beholden to the Crown, including the larger contest at Moore's Creek.

In that same month of June 1776, a British fleet was repulsed trying to enter Charleston's harbor by the stalwart defenders on Sullivan's Island. As a matter of fact, the first declaration concerning independence may had been signed in the village of Charlotte Town, North Carolina, declaring the county of Mecklenburg free on the 20th of 1775, some 13 months before the main one was in Pennsylvania.

There have been disputes on this actually taking place with that first declaration but the preponderance of evidence does seem to support it. In any case, when Cornwallis briefly fought for, and occupied the place, for a short period of time before falling back to Winnsboro, SC, to set up his main center of operations, he left calling the Charlotte village and its environs a "A Hornet's Nest of Rebellion". This statement by the general surely says something for the stiff and determined resistance he found there and about.

Come January the 10th, the state's Royal Governor, Martin, called upon the Royalists to rally up and defeat "the most horrid and unnatural rebellion that has been exerted in the ...Provence." Martin went on to call these patriots wicked, traitorous, and calculating. The Highlanders themselves weren't even sure what the Governor meant. Their enthusiasm, at least at first, was somewhat muted as many believed there was no direct threat to their new-found communities. After a while, though, all this changed and enlistments amongst the Scots rose.

After forming some miles from Cross Creek, they elected leader, Flora's husband , Alan, as he had fought at Culloden, albeit with little action in that fight. The real leaders, however, were two Donalds that had marched up Bunker Hill ( Breed's Hill in fact) almost a year earlier with the British. Eventually this band of loyalists gathered somewhere between 1,300 to 1,600 men, including ex- Regulators.

Flora's famous ride back and forth across their ranks must have been inspiring. They surely needed it with only "600 old bad firelocks and a few broadswords" as Flora later wrote. [actually, a count of captured weapons after the battle would show that somewhat more than this number were present.]

Overview of Rebel Trenches. Bridge in upper right-hand corner of painting

Two patriot officers named Ashe and Lillington got to the bridge on the night of the 25th. Next day they started to erect breastworks and dig trenches on the east side of the bridge, but later on Caswell came along with his two fieldpieces, and took command. Caswell started to throw up breastworks on the west side of the bridge, the side the Scots, still hidden on the forest road, were assumed to be approaching.

However, Caswell changed his mind after a little while, and ordered the entrenchment work on the west bank to be abandoned. He retired with all his men, over a thousand of them now, to the east bank, the side toward the sea, where he strengthened the defense works Ashe and Lillington had already built and where he mounted his two cannon, which were called , for no reason that endured, Old Mother Covington and Her Daughter.

As they crossed, they took up a large number of the boards near the middle of the bridge, leaving only the round string pieces, which they daubed with lye soap and wild animal grease. That night, a bleak one, the Scots came to the west bank. Caswell's soldiers could hear them over there, acting almost whimsical. With this lack of cautious preparation by probably a reconnaissance party, so near to the faces of their patriotic foes, they were unaware of this concentration of fighters and in great danger.

But, for whatever reason, Caswell decided not to take them on.

Farther back in the near wilderness the Highlander's officers deliberated. The scouts, who must have been imbibing or blind to an important perception, reported that the entrenchments on the east bank had been left as they were and had not even been filled in, from which they deduced that the patriots had largely retreated. They had heard nothing from the other bank, either, and had glimpsed no fires there. They did not say that a big portion of the bridge was missing in the middle, and apparently had not even noticed that fact.

Before all this, Colonel Richard Caswell with some 800 patriot Rangers from New Bern had reached the future battle scene after retreating from Rockfish Creek, where the colonel had temporarily blocked the Scots, until they had found another crossing point to the north. He then sent a message to Moore, reporting that the Scots had crossed the river, going eastwards, and were nearing the Widow Moore's Creek Bridge. Moore then sent back off Lillington and Ashe to Moore's Creek.

Back to the very early morning hours of the 27th: the loyalist officers were in disagreement. The older ones, the professionals, the Breed's Hill men, would have preferred to wait until daylight, in order to make sure that there were no heavily manned entrenchments on the far side of the creek, but the young bucks, with their blood up, were all for an immediate assault on the rebellion men's position.

One of the most determined of these young soldiers was Alexander McLeod, who only the other day had married the daughter of Allan and Flora Macdonald, a teenage girl whom he had literally left at the altar in order to go to war. He offered to lead the advance guard. Captain John Campbell made the same offer. They won their point after throwing out innuendos of cowardice between each other, and the more experienced officers , reluctantly, gave in to their desires.

A first strike force of eighty men was handpicked with great care, armed only with those old bad firelocks and broadswords Flora Macdonald had written about after the battle, along with their smaller dirks. Carrying these weapons of their ancestors, and proudly so, on they went to the sound of bagpipe players marching with them. It surely must have been stirring music for these young men as they proceeded into the unknown.

The bridge was only six miles away. They reached it right before dawn. They now drew their heavy claymore swords, yelled their slogans, or rather, sluagh-gairm war cries from the old country, and charged at speed over the bridge, slowed by the largely missing middle, upon the entrenched and rebellious defenders.

It was magnificent sight to behold but it wasn't war, the result more terrible than anything else in fact.

Cannon facing bridge

The rebellion men, perfectly prepared, let loose with smoothbore muskets, other kinds of firearms, and cannon. Several minutes is all it took to end the conflict. Some of the Scots got across, but not many. Some were shot down on the bridge or slide into the creek seeking shelter. Those remaining broke and retreated against this impenetrable wall of patriots. Several of the skedaddlers demoralized those behind them by spreading the very wildest kind of rumors while running through their remaining ranks.

Two of the Scots leaders got across the bridge but were both felled. When only a few yards from the trenches, McLeod was riddled by at least two dozen birdshot and nine smoothbore balls. Flora Macdonald's husband was captured, and spent a miserable existence in jail until being released in a prisoner exchange at a much later date.

A pursuit by the Patriots after the running enemy might have availed them much, but, for whatever reason, none was attempted. The next morning, however, on arriving at the Moore's Creek Bridge, Colonel Moore did just that and was wildly successful. The Highlanders were, for the most part, rather new to Carolina, and so had bunched together in groups rather than take their chances on the unknown terrain, which included swamps and tangled-up woods. These men, when captured, were treated fairly and there were no acts of vengeance, with the rank and file, or non-officers, released after promising not to take up arms again.

The victors brought in over a dozen wagons with their teams, bags full of coin, close to a thousand firearms, and plenty of broadswords and dirks. This victory had a stimulating effect on their recruiting efforts and more tightly bound Patriot control of North Carolina. This early action in the war also had a dampening effect on Highlander assistance for King George III's forces in the future, too; not to mention General Cornwallis, on his retreat from battle at Guilford Courthouse, later marching through their settlements expecting great numbers to arise under his standards.

It was not to be.

The casualties were very lopsided at Moore's Creek Bridge, with a few soldiers falling killed and wounded out of approximately 1,050 men present on the American side. The Scots suffered far more with perhaps as many as 50 killed, a greater number wounded of whatever fatalities were incurred, and about 850 seized as prisoners of war.

This triumph has often been underestimated in its effects of stifling and tamping down Highlander morale and their war making potential in Eastern North Carolina. After the contest, the Scots stronghold of Cross Creek and the port city of Wilmington, were pretty much all that was left to Britain for the duration of the conflict in the east of North Carolina.. Recruitment to His Majesty's forces certainly fell far short of what was hoped for after this defining early battle in the southern theatre of operations.

In the picture gallery below are some of the memorials in the park, with the one at far right dedicated to Polly Slocum, who rode a horse to the site 65 miles away from her cabin to aid any wounded or injured Patriots. Perhaps with the dearth of her sides injured men, she showed mercy and assisted the wounded Highlanders.

The park's walk is short, or rather, condensed, but beautiful and very interesting. It even has that new kind of walking material that makes it easy on the feet and ankles. But beware the pinecones and other tree attachments that might fall on the trail. A friend on the path with me twisted their ankle, albeit slightly, after stepping on a cone, but otherwise it is a very comfortable walk and of much enjoyment and reflection.

Here is a link for directions and such by the park service: http://www.nps.gov/mocr/index.htm

Battle of Clontarf - Norseman Power In Ireland : by Guest Writer Phyllis Doyle

8/4/2014

This is the second story in Phyllis's three part Viking series for Once Upon a History. The first one: Viking era- Important Element of Medieval History - Scandinavia and Europe, was well-received so of course it's exciting to present her next one here.

I don't think Phyllis would mind the reader seeing the following e-mail Ms. Doyle wrote me so here it is: I know I'm a good writer and when I read the article I get chills all over- for, these are my ancestors ( and yours also) in the article and like it says in my last sentence of the story.
"Descendants of the Norsemen and the Danes are fiercely proud of their ancestors."

Thank you Phyllis for your great second story and by the way, Alastar means "defender of men" in old Norse, and you bet people should be proud of their heritage, whatever it is, thank you for that Phyllis. .

Phyllis's excellent blog with well over a hundred stories can accessed here: phyllisdoyle @ HubPages

For similar articles on Once Upon a History see Phyllis's first installment in her series: Viking Age- Important Element of Medieval History- Scandinavia and Europe; and Alastar's Visiting Historical Odense and Ribe, Denmark: Land of Vikings and Friends

One day in the history of Ireland-

In the early morning of April 23, 1014, Good Friday, the Battle of Clontarf began. This one battle would determine the outcome of Viking power in Ireland. The battle lasted just one day, but this one day in the history of Ireland is still remembered as the greatest of wars in Ireland's early history. The Vikings, led by Mael Morda and Sigtrygg Silkbeard, came in from Dublin on their boats and with their backs to the sea made a stand against the Irish of the north, led by Brian Boru and Murchad mac Brian.

Vikings in Ireland ~

From 793 to April of 1014, the Vikings were a formidable force in Ireland -- this time period was called The Viking Age. They came to the island to find places to settle and to do so, they had battles ahead of them and places to conquer. They plaqued the coasts of Ireland and began settling, making their own place in a foreign land. To the Irish, they wereseen as bloodthirsty raiders, barbaric, and heathen savages, an enemy of Ireland.

Vikings from Norway in Ireland-

The first Vikings who entered Ireland were Scandinavian, Norsemen. They came in at County Antrim in Northern Ireland. Their first raid was carried out at Rathlin in 790 -- they raided Rathlin again in 973. Their third attack on Rathlin is when they annihilated the Rathlin Monastery. They gradually settled among the locals in northern towns. They did not venture far from the coast for several years. In 811 a Viking raiding party entered Ulster in Northern Ireland. They were defeated, all killed by the Ulaidh of Ulster. This did not stop the Vikings.

Their raids began again in 821 and intensified over the following decades. Establishing longports (fortified Viking ship enclosures) they built up their shore fortresses as bases to return to after battles. By fortification of settlements on both sides of a river, the Vikings had a strong defense, shelter and easy access to the sea. This was also advantageous for trade and economic prosperity for the Vikings. Archeological evidence shows that these ports became major trading centers. During the ninth and tenth centuries, these highly profitable ports established a strong presence of Vikings in Ireland.

After their first winter in Ireland, 840 - 841, the Vikings established some permanent settlements. By the late 800s, they had gradually moved south and settled in a few ports of the counties of Dublin, Waterford, Wexford, Cork, and Limerick. These Norse Viking settlements were the first large towns in Ireland and today are still the largest urban centers.

For the Vikings, living in these towns was advantageous to them, for the Kings of these areas were in constant squabble with each other and their northern neighbors in Ireland, particularly Brian Boru, who had become High King of Ireland in 941.

The squabbles and skirmishes stemmed from all the Kings who were anxious to control the Viking ports. The Vikings were not only very great warriors, highly effective in battles, their trading contacts overseas had built a desirable network of trade and revenue, which the kings wanted to further their own politcal powers.

Brian Boru also had plans and aims to secure the powers and influences of the Vikings for his own political career.

Vikings from Denmark in Ireland ~

The Danes, Vikings from Denmark (a North Germanic tribe), began arriving in Ireland during the years 849 - 852. Previously, around AD 800, the Danes were raiding in Ireland and Great Britain. These were the Vikings that the Irish referred to as the "dark foreigners" or "dark-haired strangers". In 853 Danish settlers began arriving and adopted Christianity as they settled and mixed with the local population.

Denmark, England, and Norway was a single realm under the kingship of Canute the Great. Canute ruled this realm for almost 20 years, till his death in 1035. When King Canute died, England
disengaged from the Danish control, which left Denmark disorganized and much less powerful. During this time, the Norse Vikings continued to raid Denmark until Sweyn Estridson, Canute's nephew, reorganized and renewed strong relations with the Archbishop of Bremen, who was the Archbishop of all of Scandinavia. The Danes once again became a powerful force and embraced Christianity.

With the spread of Christianity, the Norsemen continued seeking new lands to settle and were gaining power in Ireland, establishing formidable influence and fortified settlements.

Brian Boru of Munster, High King of Ireland ~

Brian Boru (c. 941 - April 23, 1014) was the High King of Ireland from 1002 to 1014. Brian was of the Dal gCaia tribe of north Munster. The Dal gCaia was known as a powerful tribe that claimed descendance from Cormac Cas, a powerful warrior and King of Munster in the third century. Brian was the most well-known king of the clan and credited with empowering the dynasty to even greater success and fame.

The High Kingship of Ireland, under the control of the Ui Neill (Irish and Scottish dynasties), had been the dominant kingship until Brian put an end to it. King Mael Sechnaill mac Domnaill of Ui Neill, abandoned by his kinsmen, acknowledged Brian as High King in 1002. For the next ten years, Brian waged campaigns agains Leinster's strong resistance, and against the Norse Kingdom of Dublin.

In 1013, Brian's kingship and authority was seriously threatened when his ally Mael Sechnaill was attacked by King Flaithbertach Ua Neill and the Ulstermen. Mael Sechnaill suffered more attacks by the Dubliners and their king, Sigtrygg Silkbeard and the Leinstermen led by Mael Morda mac Murchada.

Now, there were also some underlying tensions between these men that fought Brian. It gets rather hairy here. You see, Brian's wife, Gormlaith, was Mael Morda's sister and Sigtrygg Silkbeard's mother. She had previously been married to Amlaib Cuaran, king of Dublin and York, then married to Mael Sechnaill. And Sigtrygg was married to Brian's daughter, Slaine.

Battle of Clontarf ~

So, now we have these factions coming together on Good Friday of April 23, 1014, when Brian's armies along with Denmark Vikings and other allies, and the Leinster and Dublin armies with (Norse) Vikings of Orkney and Mann meet at Clontarf.

The Norse Vikings were led by Sigurd of Orkney and Brodir of Mann. Leaders of this entire force was Sigtrygg Silkbeard and Mael Morda. However, Sigtrygg stayed in Dublin watching the battle from the walls. He remained behind to protect Dublin in case of attack from some of Brian's forces.

The belligerents met in Clontarf. The Norsemen came in from Orkney and Mann at high tide and had their backs to the sea. The Norsemen, led by Brodir and Sigurd made up the front line of defense, Dublin men commanded by Dubgall mac Amlaib and Gilla Ciarain mac Glun lairn backed up the Norsemen and behind them were the Leinstermen, led by Mael Morda.

Brian's front line defense were the Dal gCais tribe led by Murchad, Brian's son, and Toirdelbach, Murchad's son who was only 15. Brian's brother, Cudulligh and Domnll mac Diarmata of Corcu Baiscind were also in the front. Next were the Munster forces led by the king of Deisi Muman, Mothia mac Domnaill mic Faelain the king of Ui Liathain, Magnus mac Amchada. The Connachta led by Mael Ruanaidh Ua hEidhin and Tadhg Ua Cellaigh, were behind the second rank. On the right flank were Brian's Viking allies, the Danes. The left flank was Fergal ua Ruairc, the Ui Briuin and the Conmhaicne. The last rank was Mael Sechnaill and the men of Meath. Brian Boru, being too old to fight (he was 70 some sources say) stayed in the far rear near the wood in a tent with just a few soldiers to guard him.

Now, all is ready and we expect a loud clash of shields and swords, warrior yells and berserkers gone mad -- yet, apparently this did not start right away, for Plait, known as one of the bravest Vikings, began taunting and challenging one of Brian's Scottish allies. The Scotsman came forth and the two men met in the field and fought. As the two sides watched with great interest, Plait and the Scotsman killed each other, as is noted in the Cogadh Gaedhel Re Gallaibh (annals) "with the sword of each through the heart of the other, and the hair of each in the clenched hand of the other."

Then the all out battle ensued, which was according to the Cogad, "remarkably loud and bloody".

The Connacht men fought with the men of Dublin in a fierce battle that left only 100 Connacht and 20 Dublinmen. The last casualties of this battle happened at Dubgall's Bridge on the road back to Dublin. Brian's son, Murchad faced the Norsemen and killed 100 Vikings on his own.

The battle began at sunrise and lasted the whole day. The Dublin and Leinster forces broke, with some retreating towards their ships, and others headed towards the wooded areas. Unfortunately for the Vikings, high tide had come in again and cut off any access to the wood, while their ships were carried off by the tide. The trapped Vikings were killed or drowned. Brian's grandson, Toirdelbach was killed at this time -- chasing the Vikings into the sea, he was knocked down by a wave and drowned. Murchad, Brian's son was killed right after he killed Sigurd of Orkney.

Brian was in his tent, praying for a victory when Brodir of Mann crept in and killed him. Brodir was caught by Brian's soldiers and killed before he reached the wood.

Sigtrygg Silkbeard survived the day and continued to rule in Dublin until his death in 1042.

Last Stand of the Vikings in Ireland ~

The Battle of Clontarf was the last stand of the Norse Vikings in Ireland and their power was broken -- it was the end of the Viking wars in Ireland. There were still many Vikings who survived and eventually merged with Irish families through marriage.

The Viking power was gone, but their skills and advanced technology contributed greatly to the progress of Ireland with skills for the building of warships, crafting weapons, battle tactics and the development of towns like Dublin, Cork and Waterford that are still the largest in Ireland.

The Viking heritage and influence in Ireland is still strong today. Descendants of the Norsemen and the Danes are fiercely proud of their ancestors.

Stats:

Battle of Clontarf, Dublin, Ireland

Date: April 23, 1014

Location: Clontarf, Dublin

Result: Munster Irish victory -- Viking power in Ireland broken

Belligerents: Irish of Munster (with Danes) and Irish of Leinster (with Norsemen)

Irish of Munster and Danes

Commanders and leaders:

Brian Boru - died in battle

Murchad mac Briain - died in battle

Strength: Less than 7,000 men

Casualties and losses: More than 4,000 died in battle

****

Irish of Leinster and Vikings of Dublin

Commanders and Leaders

Mael Morda - died in battle

Sigtrygg Silkbeard (the only commander to survive the battle)

Strength: Less than 6,600 men

Casualties and Losses: Almost 6000 died in battle**

Map of Ireland in 1014, Main Kingdoms, Wikipedia Public Domain, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Clontarf

History of St. Augustine's Fort, the Castillo de San Marcos

6/20/2014

It is the same in love as in war ;

a fortress that parleys is half taken.

Marguerite de Valois

The first thing one may notice on coming into view of St. Augustine's fortress is its low-slung appearance against the skyline. As you get closer, though, you suddenly realize what a mighty stronghold the Castillo de San Marcos truly was...and is.

In fact, the picture to the left reminds me of some kind of Noah's Ark constructed out of stone. Anyway, the fort has proved just as indestructible over the many centuries as that Old Testament miracle-boat was written to be. Maybe the reader will see something else entirely different in this photo of the second-oldest masonry fort in North America, one in San Juan, Puerto Rico, being older.

On approaching the structure it looks to be entirely built by slabs of mollusca, you can even see that these mollusk shells are fused together- and by their own lime secretions at that. This made the walls generally self-absorbing to cannonballs rather than have them explode on impact.

As impressive as the outside of the castle is, the inside promises to hold wonders too.

IN THE BEGINNING

St. Augustine, Florida was founded in 1565 by one Pedro Menendez de Aviles, a staunch Catholic. The Spanish asserted an exclusive title over La Florida, so when a group of Huguenot French, seeking freedom from persecution back in France, built Fort Caroline down the coast from where St. Augustine would soon be founded, the Spanish commander attacked and killed most of its unwary inhabitants.

On approaching the fort, the French demanded his name and objective. "I am Menendez of Spain," was his reply, "I am sent with strict orders from my king, to gibbet and behead all the Protestants in these regions. The Frenchman who is a Catholic I will spare, -- every heretic shall die." And so they did, these Huguenot men, women and children.

The stronghold's construction was begun in 1672, not long after English buccaneer Robert Searle sacked the presidio of the town in 1668. These fortified base's were built to protect against enemies such as hostile Native Americans, the close-by English settlements in Virginia and Carolina, and above all, pirates like Searle. This swashbuckler's devastating raid convinced the Spanish authorities of the need for something stronger, hence the castle fortress, which was essentially completed twenty-three years after its start.

Entrance from inside the Castillo

TWO SIEGES IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

During what's called the "first Spanish period" the fort was bombarded twice: in 1702 by James Moore and, in 1740, by Georgia's governor James Oglethorpe. The Spanish in Florida were at the time hereditary enemies of the English in the New World and Moore took advantage of this fact during Queen Anne's War to command an attack on St. Augustine and its fort.

After assembling a force at Charles Town and Port Royal, S.C., with flatteries and dreams of booty, Moore sailed for St. Augustine with a small fleet while another group marched overland. Upon their arrival, the town was ravaged and the fortress closely invested, but without achieving anything of import. His cannon could make no impression on the elastic castle walls, so Moore sent off a Colonel Daniel to Jamaica for pieces of a stronger caliber. But, during his absence, a Spanish fleet entered the mouth of the harbor, forcing Governor Moore to raise the siege and depart, and quickly at that. More of a skedaddle than retreat, in fact.

In 1739 the War of Jenkin's Ear commenced between Great Britain and Spain. This initial conflict later segued into the War of the Austrian Succession. In the intervening years between Moore's expedition and the start of hostilities in 1739, St. Augustine, its castle and environs, had been places of refuge for escaped African American bonds people, some indentured white folk, defeated Amerindian warriors and other downtrodden.

The Creeks, sometimes, and the South Carolinian Yamasees, often, attacked weaker tribes they mostly sold to southern Caribbean sugar plantations or incorporated into their own villages. They also used Northern Florida and the stronghold as bases for raiding the English settlements in the Georgia regions and Carolina after the devastating Yamasee War destroyed that tribe's alliance with the English.

That conflict nearly saw Charleston, SC, captured, devastated and burned ; no doubt after much booty, prisoners and scalps had been taken. But, Governor Craven proved equal to the emergency and after hard fighting drove the Yamasee across the Savannah River where they dispersed. Some of these defeated warriors found a refuge in the Castillo where they were treated with sympathy, for a while, until they became bothersome to the don for a variety of reasons and were expelled to their fate.

In consequence of these situations over time, the great martial reputation of Georgia's governor, James Oglethorpe, that was held by the Crown, indicated this man as the proper person to lead an army from his province and the Carolinas against the Spanish in Florida. The old 42nd regiment of foot from Britain and a strong allied Native American contingent, estimated at over a thousand braves, were included in his force of English and colonial soldiers.

With well over two thousand men Oglethorpe descended on north-east Florida, capturing several smaller forts before laying siege to the Castillo de San Marcos itself. On arriving at the fortress, a message was sent to it,
demanding its surrender, only to be returned by the bastion's confident don, who told Oglethorpe he'd be glad to shake his hand inside the castle, if he could make in that is.

An intense bombardment of the place availed Oglethorpe nothing. In addition, his Native American contingent deserted after he called them "barbarous dogs" for proudly bringing him an enemy scalp. Also, the Castillo's commander, during the lengthy exchange of fierce hot shot over many days, sent forth a band of African American militia and Spanish regulars to re-take the first free black settlement in America, Fort Mose. In this they were successful, after a brief but savage firefight against its surprised but battling Scots Highlander garrison from Darien, Georgia.

With these set-backs and his reluctance to storm the seemingly impregnable walls of the fort, having little faith left in the espirit de corps of his colonial soldiers, General Oglethorpe was left no choice but to raise the siege and ignominiously retreat back to Georgia. There he was regaled for his shortcomings on the campaign but has since been redeemed by some historians over the failed expedition.

LATE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY TO MID- NINETEENTH CENTURY

After the French and Indian War, Florida passed into the possession of England. This came about as a result of the Spanish unwisely allying with France in 1761. Between the end of that war and 1771, Scotsman James Grant became governor of East Florida. Grant oversaw a rambunctious and rowdy St. Augustine during his tenure. A visitor later wrote of the place at this time, "Luxury and debauchery reigned amidst scarcity..." Governor Grant returned to England green-gilled and gouty.

The British renamed St. Augustine's castle Fort St. Mark. The Brits maintained a lack-a-daisical post until the outbreak of the colonists' revolution for independence roused them to action, which included beefing-up the castle's armaments and security.. During the conflict the place was mainly used for imprisoning enemy combatants, as well as being used as a base for raids into the southern hinterlands on occasion.

The Spanish crown allied with the freedom- fighting American people in 1779, and thus were able to regain possession of the fort and Florida in 1784 after the Treaty of Paris. Unfortunately, as the decades wore on, border disputes and other incidents like the ferocious Creek Indian Red Stick War, that saw Andrew Jackson invade West Florida, caused much rancor and misunderstandings between Spain and the U.S. government.

So much contention now occurred between the two countries, including Spain's attempt to hold onto a rebelling Mexico, that in 1819, all of Florida was ceded back to the United States with the Adams-Onis Treaty. The Americans began occupying the territory in 1821, renaming the castle Fort Marion, in honor of the crafty Revolutionary War hero, Francis "the Swamp Fox" Marion.

A famous personage from the Americans' stewardship of the Castillo at a later period, was the Seminole chief Wildcat, or Coacoochee. Under a white flag of truce he and some followers were taken prisoner at a parley during the Second Seminole War and imprisoned in the fortress. These 19 Seminoles, which included some women, later made a seemingly impossible and hair-breadth escape from the cell since called Coacoochee's Cell.

CIVIL WAR PERIOD

Early in 1861 Florida joined her seceding sister states in forming the Confederacy. As the Federal garrison withdrew from Fort Marion, Floridian forces marched right in, only to be confronted by one man the departing bluecoats had left behind. He defied the new owners until handed a receipt for the building.

A humorous incident right before the war began, that would be sorely missed as the conflict progressed and became so much more than just a sanguinary affair.

St. Augustine and its fortress were re-taken by Union forces in March of 1862. From this area of northern Florida many raids and expeditions were launched into the mainland. The most notable being Federal general Truman Seymour's bloodily repulsed attempt to take the state capitol of Tallahassee in Feb. 1864.

Door to dirt floor dungeon.

LATE NINETEENTH CENTURY AND BEYOND

In the 1870s the fort was supervised by one Richard Henry Pratt and became one of the chief places Native American prisoners from out west were sent. Many of these people were from the Cheyenne tribe and later, even Apache war leaders like Geronimo and Chatto. Pratt appears to have been an enlightened and progressive man and did much to improve the castle and, he sought to make the charges in his care lives better as well.

He did this by teaching them English and other skills that would help ease their assimilation into society. Right or wrong, at least he did what he thought was best for them. In the future, such advancements in this direction were made, that the government sponsored over two-dozen Native American boarding schools for the tribes, and, allowed churches to open more than four-hundred and fifty other such establishments themselves.

The fort was finally designated a National Monument in 1924. The National Park Service took over in 1933 and, in 1942, the castle was renamed the Castillo de San Marcos in honor of its original Spanish builders. As of 1966 and up until today, it is on the list of National Register of Historic Places, and how rightfully so.

St. Augustine is a very historic and laid-back town with a beautiful white sand beach. The Castillo is certainly one of its major stand-outs and well worth visiting should one be in the north Florida area. Directions there, hours, places of interest, lodging, eateries, etc. can easily be found on the web and elsewhere.

View of ocean from battlements

Viking Age - Important Element of Medieval History - Scandinavia and Europe: by guest author Phyllis Burns

5/31/2014

Welcome to writer Phyllis Doyle Burn's second guest article on the Carolinian's Archives. This is first of three stories about Vikings by Phyllis, with the other two to be published over the next several months on Once Upon a History. An ambitious and exciting undertaking by our guest writer that is most welcome.

Phyllis has 144 charming and informative articles on the link below, covering such topics as history, folklore/mythology, spirituality, Native American culture, poetry and much more. She also happens to be one of the most friendly, sincere, informative and talented people I know.

Phyllis's marvelous site can be found by searching: phyllisdoyle @ HubPages

Viking Age, 793 to 1066 ~

The Viking Age is a very important element of medieval history of Scandinavia and Europe. With the expansion the Vikings accomplished in their seafaring journeys, it opened up a large portion of Great Britain, Ireland, France, Sicily, Russia and Europe in general.

Viking! In ancient times that word struck terror in the minds of people. The Viking Age was a time of great exploration for the seafaring Norse warriors. The legends and stories of the Viking Age and their rise and fall are incredible -- whether real life, myth or folklore, they can hold one spellbound.

"Na Lochlannaigh ag teacht!" (The Vikings are coming!), was an often heard warning in ancient Ireland during the days when these seafaring warriors were exploring the world, mapping new pathways in the seas, or on a raid.

In the early history of Europe, especially Northern Europe where the Scandinavian kingdoms of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden ruled, the Viking Age was the period between 793 and 1066. It was an era when the Scandinavian Norsemen expanded explorations by sea for trade, conquests, raids, and the expansion of settlements.

These Norse warriors were expert at navigating the seas. They were very knowledgeable of the stars and constellations and could easily sail at night, with the celestial bodies guiding them. Their sea voyages covered an immense area and opened a new world of trade and possibilities of claiming new lands.

Wikipedia.org

Who were the Vikings ?

Prior to the forced conversion to Christianity, the Norse religion had no specific name. Odin,(Old High Germanic Pagan: "Wotan"), whom they called the Allfather or the Father of Gods, was who they believed in and followed. Odin was the ruler of Asgard, the home of the AEsir (all gods). A Viking's highest honour and reward was to die with a sword in his hand and to be carried by the Valkyries to Valhalla, the majestic palace of Odin, where heroic warriors lived in the afterlife.

Archaeology has shown that the history of Vikings and their culture is much more complex than ever before realized. They were very instrumental in opening up the Old World and establishing contacts with other countries and cultures. Their way of life was unique, mystical, and geared to constant developement of the individual and the clan as a whole.

The word 'viking' originally pertained to 'seafaring warriors' or an 'expedition by sea'. It did not designate one race of people -- 'viking' was an activity, not a group of people. To go on a sea journey for whatever reason was referred to as "to go viking".

Since most, if not all, of the raids on Europe, Asia, and North Atlantic Islands by sea were warriors from Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, it was these people that the term viking eventually defined -- they became Vikings in the eyes of the world. Men from the Scandinavian kingdoms were tall and large framed. They were warriors of the toughest kind yet very spiritual.

Wikipedia.org

Snorrie Sturluson (1179 - 1241), of Iceland, was a historian, mythographer, poet, and politician. The writings of Snorri provide so much information on the Scandinavian kings and people that without them we would have much less knowledge of the Vikings.

So, although the rest of the world saw Vikings as heathens and savages, they were intelligent and cultivated people in their natural daily life.

What drove the Vikings to raids and expansion?

As with most civilizations in ancient times, or even today, there are many reasons for expansion of settlements. Over population, politics, and religious reasons being at the top of the list.

There are many theories as to why the Vikings escalated their raids and expanding settlements. One possible reason is that they could -- they had the time, the training, the desire and the strenth in numbers to make a difference. It was a period when naval operations in western Europe was at a low and there was little organization and even less opposition. England was suffering from political and religious divisions and their defense was not up to par.

Being expert seaman, the Vikings took advantage of the opportunity to expand their world. Their swift longships, their ability to sail at night,and the many towns near navigable rivers, gave the Vikings an advantage.

The reign of Charlemagne (800 - 814) was during the Viking Age. As Charlemagne endeavored to Christianize all peoples, there were de facto entities who rebelled, causing divisions. It was no easy task for Charlemagne to keep all factions of Europe intact and cooperating. During his reign, Charlemagne campaigned hard to convert all pagans to Christianity -- often at the threat of death. Professor Rudolf Simek, Professor of German studies at the University of Bonn, and editor-in-chief of (i)Studia Medievalia Septentrionalia(/i), is of the belief that

"it is not a coincidence if the early Viking activity occurred during the reign of Charlemagne".

The forced conversion to Christianity that Charlemagne fought for created a lot of conflict and division in Norway -- which is a very probable reason why the Vikings fought so hard to sustain their way of life and beliefs.

Trade was of great importance to the Norsemen and when Christian British merchants refused to trade with "heathens and pagans", this put the Vikings in yet another situation which challenged and criticized their honor as trustworthy traders. Hence, increased raids for the supplies they needed.

Vikings were being pushed out of their way of life. Their own homeland of Scandinavia was at a point of over population and more land was needed for settlements. With the serious religious conflicts and divisions in Scandinavian kingdoms, Vikings looked for other places to settle, which often meant raids and conquests to gain more land.

Wikipedia.org

Vikings in Battle

"Battle Fury", or "Battle Frenzy" was a trance-like state of a ferocious and fearless level wherein the warrior affected knew nothing but absolute power, tremendous strength, and a lust for blood-thirsty killing.

In some cases, as in the tales of Cu Chulain, even his own men would give him space during battle and would not come within his sight in order to avoid a quick and merciless death. After the battle was won, it would take several men to tackle and restrain Cu Chulain till the "battle fury" subsided.

Vikings were always ready to battle on their journeys, so were always armed. The very emotional and loud call to Odin from a warrior going into battle is very much dramatized in movies about Vikings -- yet, this is a true account of Vikings, for to call upon their god of gods, Odin, was done when the Viking warriors entered into battle. To hear such a loud call to a god by a large, powerful warrior (in fact many warriors at once) very likely put fear into their enemies.

Odin

When calling upon Odin, a Viking warrior believed he took on the powers of the god, and so became fearless. The average Viking warrior was feirce looking enough due to their size and strength. Then there was the warrior who could transform into a beastile image and state of mind. This was not just in mythology, but real life. It was yet another reason why the Vikings were so feared. Some of their greatest warriors, such as Ivar the boneless, were known to be berserkers.

What is a berserker? ~

Many great Celtic warriors in mythology, such as King Arthur, Ogier the Dane, Cu Chulain and others, would enter into what is called "battle fury" when fighting enemies. Although this attribute of superhuman strength made for good stories in mythology and movies, it is very close to the truth of real Viking warriors. The term "berserker" was given to real life Norse warriors who, when in battle, fought in an uncontrollable, trance-like fury, or frenzy, with no regard to their own safety. In Old Norse literature (the vernacular literature of the Scandinavian peoples up to ca. 1350), berserkers are attested to from numerous sources.

It is believed that the warriors who achieved this state may have taken, or unknowingly been given, a potent herb or some substance that would induce such a state of transformation, such as the halucineogenic Amanita muscaria. This is how many Vikings fought, as if they were in an altered state of consciousness where they felt no fear or pain. Ivar Ragnarsson, referred to as 'Ivar the boneless', was a powerful leader of the Vikings. He was supposedly of great height and strength without any inducements -- in battle he was known to be a berserker and to achieve the level of "battle fury".

King Harald, grandson of Queen Asa of Agder Norway (see 'The Oseberg Ship' below), used groups of berserkers as the first to enter into battle with the enemy. In a ritual unique to them, these warriors would work themselves up into a frenzy, a rage prior to going into battle. Their actual physical appearance would change. Bulging glazed eyes, purple face caused by the blood vessels filling up and bulging on face and neck, a wild and beasty appearance overtaking them -- this was all from the rage boiling within. A band of berserkers could wipe out hundreds of enemy troops in short time because of their altered state of mind. By sending in those warriors first, Harald instilled shock and horror into the enemy, therby weakening their defense lines.

In his 'Ynglinga saga', Snorri Sturluson (1179 - 1241) wrote:

"His (Odin's) men rushed forwards without armour, were as mad as dogs or wolves, bit their shields, and were strong as bears or wild oxen, and killed people at a blow, but neither fire nor iron told upon them. This was called Berserkergang."

Hilda Ellis Davidson (1914 - 2006) was an English aniquarian whose writings focused heavily on paganism, mostly that of the Germanic and Celtic. She is known for contributing immensely to the study of Norse mythology. Davidson wrote profusely on Norse literature, history, and mythology.

A theory that Davidson expounded on was a strong connection to the Viking berserkers and the 'Varangian Guard' of Byzantine emperor Constantine VII (AD 905 - 959). In his "Book of Ceremonies of the Byzantine Court", Constantine VII wrote that the Norse warriors in his service (the Varangia Guard) wore animal skins and masks, which was common to the rituals performed by berserkers. The act of going berserk was known as 'berserkergang'. Odin's special warriors, the Ulfheonar, wore wolf pelts in battle, as stated in the Volsunga saga and the Vatnsdoela saga (Haraldskvaeoi).

In a skaldic poem of the late 9th century, Thorbiorn Hornklofi wrote what is known as the earliest mention of the word "berserker" in a description of King Harald Fairhair's berserkers:

"I'll ask of the berserks, you tasters of blood,
Those intrepid heroes, how are they treated,
Those who wade out into battle?
Wolf-skinned they are called. In battle
They bear bloody shields.
Red with blood are their spears when they come to fight.
They form a closed group.
The prince in his wisdom puts trust in such men
Who hack through enemy shields."

Warriors who survived this state of battle frenzy/fury had gone through such a profound physiological and psychological change that it left them weak and unable to function for days, much like soldiers of today who suffer from PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disoder), in which they are very vulnerable to explosive fits of rage.

Wikipedia.org

Viking Arms and Armor ~

As mentioned earlier in the section "Vikings in battle" above: "Vikings were always ready to battle on their journeys, so were always armed."

Reference to this can be found in the Havamal (Sayings of the high one) of the Poetic Edda. The Poetic Edda is a valuable text of Old Norse poems which is preserved and protected in the manuscript Codex Regius. It is believed that the manuscript was written in the 1270s and was kept in hiding until 1643, when Bishop Brynjolfur Sveinsson of Skalholt (in the south of Iceland, at the river Hvita) somehow gained possession of it. In 1662, the Bishop gifted it to King Frederick III of Denmark, who kept it in Copenhagen until April of 1971. It is now at Reykjavik, the capital and largest city of Iceland, in the Arni Magnuson Institute.

The Codex Regius is so important to Scandinavian literature that when transferred to Reykjavik by ship, it was accompanied by a military escort. The Prose Edda, part of the Codex Regius, was attributed to Saemundr the Learned, a 12th century Icelandic priest. This manuscript and the Poetic Edda by Snorri Sturluson, are the most important extant sources for the mythology and Germanic legends. It has had powerful influence on Scandinavian literature since the early 19th century.

In the Havamal there is sage advice attributed to Odin, the father of gods and the god of warfare in Norse mythology. Regarding weaponry, Odin advises:

""Don't leave your weapons lying about behind your back in a field; you never know when you may need all of sudden your spear."

And in the poem Gestapattr, the first section of the Havamal, Odin give advice to the Norse when traveling and are guests at strange places:

"All the entrances, before you walk forward, you should look at, you should spy out; for you can't know for certain where enemies are sitting, ahead in the hall."

During the Viking Age, all Norse men who were free not only carried weapons at all times, but were required to. The arms each man carried were symbolic of his status in life. The wealthy man would possess a "complete ensemble" of weapons, which included his wooden shield, a spear, a battle axe or sword, and one or two javelins. The men of most wealth would also have a helmet and other armour -- these were probably possessed by only the nobility and their best warriors.

In contrast, a farmer was limited to a spear, shield, and maybe an axe or knife of a good size. Farmers could also use their hunting bows during the beginning of a battle when still at a distance far enough to shoot their arrows.

The common Viking knife was the only weapon that all Vikings, even slaves, would carry. In burial sites, knives are found with not only men, but women and children as well. There were two types of Viking knives.

The Seax is considered a knife, but actually more like a sword or dagger. The tang, aligned with the center of the blade, was inserted into a wood or horn handle. The knife was carried horizontally in its scabbard which was attached to a belt. The edge of the blade was always upwards in the scabbard.

A smaller knife, called a "knifr", was more common. The smallest of these were used for daily utility purposes. The longer knifr was used for hunting and combat.

The Viking longsword was a symbol of high status to the owner, since the swords were very costly to make. They were used in combination with the shield in single-handed combat. They were double edged blades of up to just a little over 35 inches. These swords did not have a pronounced cross-guard. They were not unique to Vikings, for they were used by other cultures throughout Europe.

The axe was very common for Vikings, used as a tool and in combat. Some axes, called Daneaxe, were larger, with the handle and blade length being as tall as the warrior who weilded it with both hands. The shorter handled axes were very sturdy and more common. They could be used up close or thrown by an expert warrior in such a way as to split open a head. Round shields were the most common item for a Viking and used as defense purposes. They were lightweight, of fir, alder, or poplar, and often reinforced with a leather covering and a rim of iron around the edges.

Common Knife Wikipedia.org

Wikipedia.org

The Oseberg Ship ~

In 834 A.D. a Viking clinker built karv ship was interred in a burial mound in Vestfold , Norway. The ship is almost entirely oak, with elaborate detailed carving on the bow and stern.

Two archaeologists, Haakon Shetelig of Norway and Gabriel Gustafson of Sweden, excavated the mound in 1904 - 1905. Among sever al items of artifacts was an intact cart with four wheels, very decorative and beautifully carved details on it -- the only one from the Viking age that has been found. The manner of the burial, with such fine artifacts indicates a burial of high status of two women, whose skeletons were in the ship. Since no precious metals were found, it was determined that the grave had been robbed not long after the internment.

It is believed that one of the women was of very high rank and the other was sacrificed to accompany her mistress in theafterlife journey. The high ranking woman was possibly Queen Asa who lived in Bygdoy, Norway. Testing on the remains show that the women lived in the same place as Queen Asa did. Queen Asa was the mother of Halfdan the Black and grandmother of Harald Fairhair.

The ship was very well preserved and is on display, along with the artifacts, at the Viking Ship Museum ingdoy of Oslo, Norway. The Oseberg ship is one of the most prized archaeological finds from the Viking era. The craftsmanship on it shows in great detail the master skills of the ship builders.

Lindisfarne Abbey ~

"AD. 793. This year came dreadful fore-warnings over the land of the Northumbrians, terrifying the people most woefully: these were immense sheets of light rushing through the air, and whirlwinds, and fiery dragons flying across the firmament. These tremendous tokens were soon followed by a great famine: and not long after, on the sixth day before the ides of January in the same year, the harrowing inroads of heathen men made lamentable havoc in the church of God in Holy-island (Lindisfarne), by rapine and slaughter."
- Anglo-Saxon Chronicle

On June 8, 793, England was shocked and devastated when Vikings attacked and destroyed the Lindisfarne Abbey on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. Alcuin of York, a Northumbrian scholar in Charlemagne's court, wrote:

"Never before has such an atrocity been seen."

For England, this was the beginning of the Viking Age and it was a traumatic experience. For the first time, the courts of Europe were very much aware of the Viking presence. This was the most significant single event that gave the Vikings their bad and feirce reputation as "savage heathens" that lasted for centuries. It was not until the 1890s that the beautiful artistry, advanced technological skills, craftsmanship, and expert seamanhip were recognized and appreciated by scholars and archaeologists outside Scandinavia.

In this author’s opinion, the Vikings were no more or less savage than any other army of warriors who fought in ancient battles. Warriors fight for their homeland, their way of life, and for the right to survive. Vikings have come into their own over the centuries and regained honour and respect for who they were.~ ~ ~

Wikipedia.org

Fredericksburg: A Wall of Deadly Stone: by guest author Randy Godwin

5/1/2014

Randy Godwin

For followers of Once Upon a History writer Randy Godwin needs no introduction. Young men, and some women, too, now of course, have always sought adventure, a chance to see the world , and, more often than not, a chance to test their mettle and bravery in trying conditions.

Two Georgia boys thinking about enlisting during World War One, go to ask a grizzled old veteran of the Civil War battle of Fredericksburg, what it was like in war and to ask him for any advice he can share with them. What he has to reminisce on and say is not necessarily what they wanted or expected to hear, in this tale with a classic Randy Godwin twist-ending that he is so admired for in many of his fiction writes..

Fredericksburg was a great victory for southern forces led by General Robert E. Lee in December of 1862, largely because of Stonewall Jackson's stalwart men on the right of the six mile long Confederate line and the troops on the left who had the semi-protection of the infamous stonewall on Marye's Heights. Just over six months later, though, at the titanic struggle of Gettysburg, on its last day, the situation was reversed and the boys in blue claimed ultimate victory in the three day battle with their own defense of a deadly wall of stone in the center of their fish-hooked shaped battle line.

For any reader unfamiliar with Randy Godwin's writings it comes highly recommended they check-out the other three guest writes Randy has on Once Upon a History; and his outstanding site can be found on the net via the button below:

Randy Godwin

The stone wall at Fredericksburg today

Memories Of War

“I don’ t really know now which was worst,” the old man said “killin’ the
enemy, or them a killin’ me. Not in thet woah, at least. It was plain
murder, ye see. Me being a sure shot, astandin’ behind thet wall, an’ them
a comin’ all grouped together jest like a covey of quail. Weren’t no
chanct fer ’em, no chanct at all”.

"I kin still see their eyes across the open ground, looking scairt, as
they shoulda been. They wuz a starin' death in the face, but they came on
anyways. I had ta shoot 'em, elsewise they'd a shot me. Warn't no choice
in the matter. It was live or die, and plenty did jest that. Seemed like
more died than lived on their side, though."

Dreams Of War

The grizzled old gentleman speaking these words was a veteran of the Civil
War, who--it was said--managed to escape many battles without losing an
arm, leg, or other bodily appendage. Rarer than you may think.
My friend, Jim Downing, and me--me being Bobby Young--were thinking about
enlisting into the army. We wanted to see the world outside of Clear
Springs, Georgia, wanted to experience life other than looking at the
backside of a mule from sunrise to sunset.

World War I was in progress. Just think of it, all the big guys slugging
it out, deciding the history of the world. We had read of such things of
course, but they always seemed like fairy tales in a way. We both had
turned 18 not long ago and had had enough of country life. We were ready
to see the world.

I told Pa that Jimmy and me were thinkin’ of joinin’ up. He didn’t have a
lot to say about it at first, but I could tell he didn’t think very much
of the idea at all. Without me to help him on the farm he couldn’t take
advantage of the high prices crops would bring during the war. At least
that was part of it, anyways.

The Bargain

“Tell you what,” he said “if you and Jimmy will go on over to Mr. Douglas
Sims house Sunday afternoon and ask him what he thinks about y’all jinin’
up for this woah, I’ll give you my blessing if ’ats whut you want. I’ll
tell ’im yore a comin’ so he’ll be there awaitin’ fo ye”. I agreed and
Jimmy said it was fine with him too.

Those next two days seemed to drag by as I walked in the plow furrows
following old Maude from one end of the hot field to the other. But
finally Sunday came. After church and the traditional Sunday meal, Jimmy
and I met at the crossroad--each of us astride our former plow mules--and
meandered over to Mr. Sims old farm house along Taylor’s Dread swamp.
We had heard tales about Mr. Douglas, of course.

He was once the best rifle shot around, they said. He fought at Fredericksburg behind the famous--or infamous, depending on which flag you rooted for--stone wall.
Yes, that one. Beside the sunken road along Marye’s Height, behind the
barrier composed of stones some say are millions of years old.

Young men--some of the best marksmen Georgia ever produced--played hell with the oncoming soldiers in blue. But it was more than simply a war tale
to Jimmy and me. Glory and honor seemed to crouch behind the old wall,
waiting to be shown. How wonderful it seemed to a couple of farm boys.

“Youth And Adventure

Mr. Sims was sitting on the porch when we rode up into the yard. “How do
boys,” he called “come on up and have a drink of iced tea, It’s a good day
fer it”. We tied the mules under a pecan tree where there was plenty of
grass to graze before we stepped up onto the porch and took a seat on the
bench next to the old man.

“So you boys is a thinking’ of headin’ off to the woah?” he asked.
“Yessir, “ both Jim and I said at almost the same time. “Dad said we had
to come over here and ask you ‘bout it first though,” I said. What do you
think about it, Mr. Sims”? This was when he told about the Union soldiers
coming at him at point blank range.

Without even pausing to consider the question--almost as if he knew it was
coming --he began talking. His voice seemed to change a bit as he related
his memories to us. Seemed as though he was speaking in church, or at a
funeral for a family member. You know, kinda solemn like.

“Before the war I always loved to hunt the woods aroundabouts,” he began.
"I purely loved to head out fore day with one of the dawgs runnin’ ahead
o” me, asniffin’ ever patch of bushes and ahopin’ to jump a deer or rabbit
outen ’em."

"The aroma of gunpowder smelt good to my nose, sorta like a perfume of
adventure, if you can ‘magine that.” At this his old eyes lit up a bit as
he remembered his boyhood days roaming the countryside and swamps with no
thought of battle to crease his brow.

Mother And Motherland

"My ma was Ireland born. She had the long red hair an’ green eyes o’ her
kin. She wanted me to go a soldierin’ for her uncle in the 24th Georgia
Infantry under Colonel Robert McMillan and his group of Irish
southerners."

"I wuz proud to go, pleased to serve my country as well as that of my
mother. I could not say no to her. Not many could. She had a way of
lookin' at you. It was her eyes which convinced you she knew best. Or so I
believed at the time."

“When I fust jined up it was fun, sorta like campin’ out or agoin’ on a
huntin’ trip with the fellers. We had rifle shootin’ contests and all. I
showed them boys how I could shoot the eyes outen a squirrel with them
fancy rifles they give us. They wuz some other pretty fair shots in the
bunch too. But I wuz the best. I always hit whut I wuz a aimin’ fer."

"We had a high ole time back then. There were so many purty girls just a
hangin’ round, but I knew there would be plenty of time fer them after the
woah. I didn't give much thought to settlin' down and marrin' so young.
Yep, it was quite a frolic fer awhile.”

For few moments Douglas seemed happy as he remembered his early military
days. His demeanor turned somber quickly though when he carried on with
his story. “But it ain’t like that in a battle," he continued. “At first
the day was foggy. Me an some o’ the best rifle shots in all of Georgy
were placed down behind that ole stone wall by the sunken road."

"We were told to shoot to kill and not to let up till thuh Yankees were
arunning back the same ways they come from. We give a loud cheer to the
captain when he tole us this."

“Yassir,” we shouted as he rode off. But it wasn’t long before we obeyed
them orders he give us, it wasn’t long atall. Because around ten that
mornin’ the fog lifted. My introduction to the art of woah begun shortly
after.”

All photos via wikipedia

Behind The Old Stone Wall

“After the first fusillade by the artillery the smoke made it hard to see
fer a minute. Of course, they’re ashootin’ at us too, ya know. But the
wall pertected us rifle shooters purty good. Our boys cut ‘em down with
the artillery first. Grape shot took out huge swaths of ‘em, like swingin’
an old wheat scythe through ripe grain, it was. But still, some of ‘em
kept acomin’ on twards us."

"Then the captin’ gave the signal for us Georgy boys to fire at will. And
we did. I lost count of the times I bit the end off ‘em paper cartridges
and poured the powder into the barrel. My old hickory ramrod was jammed
into my rifle gun barrel so many times it was almost smolderin’ on the
end. I poured water from my canteen over the barrel from time to time to
keep it cool, but still, I burnt my hands on the hot metal.”

Douglas stopped at this point and stared off into the distance, apparently
seeing the battle as it was then. Jim and I waited patiently of course,
wondering if this was all he was going to say about the war. But he then
began loading up his pipe with fresh tobacco, tamping it down before
lighting a match and puffing solidly for a moment or two until finally, he
was satisfied the pipe was lit and burning well.

“Fore that day I hadn’t been involved in no really heavy fightin‘,” he
continued at last. “I was anxious to git some experience in battle.
Couldn’t wait, I thought.”

Picking Out Lives To End

“And then we heard some groans acomin’ from our own ranks. At first I
didn’t understand what was agoin’ on. But soon--as it always does--the
word filtered down to everyone in the ranks. The Yankee’s Irish Brigade
was lining up for an attack on our old wall next. Our leaders knew we were
thinkin’ strong about this next charge by the enemy."

"But this was a different enemy we faced this time. Most of us had strong
ties to old Erin. We had been raised listenin’ to the brogue of our
parents and grandparents. Our kinsmen were the enemy now. But we still
fired on them when they came a runnin’ cross the open ground twards our
ole wall.”

“I got my fill of the smell of gunpowder that day, boys. Got my fill of a
lot of smells, sounds, and sights, long before that one battle was over. I
got tard of killin’ my fellow man, got sick o’ smelling the blood and
hearing the sound of a rifle ball striking the chest of the man I was a
aiming at."

"Got tard of hearin’ the sickenin' dull splat of my minie ball hittin’ him
across the field. Hearin' it a few seconds after he was already dead .
There was no doubt he was dead. I know my ’bility with a rifle gun. I lost
count after 20 cartridges. I spose I wanted to, cause it warn’t nothin‘ to
brag about after the fust ten."

"It warn’t nothin at all to boast on after the fust one, for that matter.
They wuz dead when I picked ’em out of the crowd. I wuz playin’ god for
that battle. Or maybe it wuz Satan I wuz a playin’ the part of. I still
don’t know fer shore to this day.”

Recently identified photo of Union soldiers in Fredricksburg trenches 1863

A Useless Thing

As Douglas stopped for a moment to relight his pipe, both me and Jimmy
seemed to snap out of the spell the old man had conjured up. At his point
we noticed the sky had darkened and we could hear thunder rumbling in the
distance. “Better put them mules in the barn boys,” Mr. Sims said “it’s
gonna come a frog strangler afore long.”

After we had put the mules in a stall we headed right back to the front
porch where Douglas had refreshed our tea. This time it smelled a bit like
corn liquor, and tasted like it too. “Just a bit o’ bracer boys, mainly
for me,” he smiled for the rarest of moments before tilting back his
ancient head and emptying the glass of the amber elixir.

“Where wuz I at?” he asked trying to pick up the threads of the old
memories. “Oh yes, the smells,” he reluctantly recalled. “Now I remember
why I went in and fixed us a toddy. It helps to forgit the smells of a
battlefield some. Not all….but some."

"Ya see, soldiers rarely mention what happens when a man dies on the field
of battle after bein’ shot all to hell. His bowels turn loose and bestows
upon a once brave young soldier the ultimate of indignities. Multiply this
by thousands of dead boys, cover it all with smoke an' dirt, add in the
sounds of cannon and rifle gun fire, the cries of the dyin', the sights of
things you’ll neer forget as long as you live, and you have the gallantry
of woah. The honah. The glory. The realization that woah is a useless
sorry thang.”

Of Children Not Born

As the rain began to fall on the old porch shingles while lightning and
thunder punctuated the words and deeds of the ancient narrator’s tale,
Jimmy and me were totally lost in the moment. Douglas had a way of making
the war come alive again. But not in the way we’d heard Civil War stories
told most of our lives. He told it real. He told it with the vengeance of
lost youth, of lost ideals, of lost faith in human kind. “Of lost dreams,”
as he finally, and so aptly, put it.

“They prolly tole you boys I 'scaped ‘thout a scratch, didn’t they?” After
we nodded our assent, Douglas suddenly stood up. A bit unsteadily because
of both his age and the corn whiskey, but still with a vigor born of pride
more than ability. He reached up and slid his suspenders off of his skinny
old shoulders and dropped his trousers and under shorts. “They lied,” he
said. “Yep, I wuz lucky alright. That ole Minie ball only caught me in a
spot which waren’t zackly life threatenin‘. At least not for me
personally, they said."

"But my sons, daughters, grandsons, and all my once future progeny would
not fare so well. In fact, they would never fare at all.” Douglas
straightened his clothes back up and sat back down on the old pine bench.
There was sweat running down his face, mixed in with tears, and agony too
I'm quite sure now. How many times had he fought this selfsame battle in
his long lifetime? But It was never over though, was it? I can see that
now.

He finally told of spending the rest of the war trying to recover from his
wounds, both mentally and physically. How he'd tried to come to terms
with, not only the loss of his progeny, but also the loss of those who
would not ever live because of his great talent with a rifle. He had never
fired any type of firearm since that day. “Never will again”, he said
softly.

Wounds Never Healed

After the war when he was healed--from the physical wound that is--
Douglas moved into this old cabin by the swamp. Never marrying, never
going anywhere much at all. He always had a good garden, and he made great
moonshine whiskey it was said. He lived alone because he liked to. Almost
everyone knew that.

Only a few folks--my father for one--ever knew the truth about Mr. Sims.
Now Jimmy and me were entrusted with the secret too. I wish now I wasn’t,
though. Not that the secret would be hard for us to keep--no, not at
all--just hard to know.

When the weather finally let up, then so did Douglas. It was as though the
storm itself was the impetus for the telling of the tale, and not simply
at the behest of the two confused boys now riding their mules home down
the muddy lane. We rode mostly in silence until we neared the crossroad.
“You still thankin’ bout joinin’ up next Friday, Jimmy?” I asked my morose
companion. “Naw,” Jimmy said “I believe I’ll be more use agrowin’ corn for
the soldiers.” As I turned my mule down the road towards home, I said to
myself quietly, “Yeah, me too.”

Stone Mountain, N.C. Park - History Hike

4/16/2014

What it must have been like as the first humans took in the view from Stone Mountain's 600 foot high granite dome? Perhaps, they were scouting out pre-historic game animals, or possibly, they were simply enthralled by the sheer beauty of it all... as we still are today.

Imagine the words of love spoken on the open granite mountain over the centuries? One can only wonder at the vows of love taken and made at the Stone Mountain State Park over the millennia.

It's that magnificent a place.

One would also think it became a special and revered spot for the later Amerindians over time. If we go forward some more to the 18th and 19th centuries, we would find Highland Scots, Scots-Irish, German, and some English and Irish settlers coming down the Great Wagon Road to settle and farm in the area. Their lives were not an easy one in any respect for they lived by the ax and the plow and the gun.

One story told over and over in these parts is that the first pioneers, traders and trappers, being rather bereft of European ladies, often took Cherokee wives as mates; hence the large number of present white folk who often claim at least a bit of Cherokee blood coursing through their veins.

What good is life without a least a little humor?

After the Eastern band of Cherokee acquired their popular Harrah's Cherokee Casino Resort, those claims of tribal blood increased considerably. Unsurprisingly, though, many Native American blood hopefuls' were found to have too little or any showing up in whatever tests were done to determine this. In addition, documentation could be scarce, and often was.

The park is some 13,747 acres, or, for the European readers and others on the metric system of Once Upon a History (nearly 56 m2) and is bordered on the west by the Thurmond Chatham Game Lands and on the north by the beautiful Blue Ridge Parkway.

Stone Mountain itself is not too far from the Virginia state line, and a report during a survey operation in the late 1720s or early 1730s, when the boundary between North Carolina and Virginia was being extended and marked, had to be stopped in the summer months for the profusion of large timber rattlesnakes all about! What a truly wild country it was in those long ago days, and still is, in a sense, up until our very own time.

The Dome Above the Hutchinson Homestead

Here is the path to the big granite dome. It's quite gravely so proper hiking boots are a must. Many also carry those stylish hiking poles. Below is a pioneer's chimney and hearth, or what's left of it. The mountain itself has an elevation of 2,305 feet (706 meters) and at one time had these hardy frontiersmen making their living here by hunting, trapping and farming, not to mention bartering on occasion with that powerful liquid stuff that came out of a moonshine still called corn likker. The Scotch-Irish have given the world many inventions over time, ranging from the scientific to the...well, potentially very intoxicating! They also largely settled and tamed, along with many German groups, the wilderness interior of the Eastern Seaboard in the 18th century.

Old Pioneer's fireplace and hearthstone

This writer won't go through all the minutia about the place that can easily be found on wiki-answers, etc.: like activities, hours, directions, and so on; but a couple of things are of especial interest and will be mentioned here. Stone Mountain is a dome of uncovered granite of the Devonian age, spanning roughly from 419 to 359 million years ago. Imagine that while standing on it. Or just sitting down on a part of the lower dome contemplating as the lady here is doing.

The mountain also offers some of the best rock climbing in the state and while there I noticed quite a few loading up their gear. These rock climbers were impressive-looking types and have me beat by a mile for intense and sustained endurance, and I'll be the first to admit that fact - admiringly!

The "other side" of Stone Mountain

The first picture in this gallery intuits a lot. This is the park's waterfall.. And, although the viewing area and walking steps are made of wooden rails, the water at two hundred feet, almost straight down, is more than a bit imposing and bewitching- definitely not a flow of water one would want to slip on. Actually, these photos look as if there are twigs and limbs that could be grabbed hold of should the need arise; but in reality there is very little of anything to clutch onto before going over the precipice. May those that have lost their lives here rest in peace.

There is even a serene- looking pool of water at the bottom amid the surrounding rocks.

Although tempting, this was near the end of the 5-hour hike and no way was I going all the long way up and down those steps to see it up close and wet my aching feet in its cooling waters. Perhaps in recompense, one of the largest red-tailed hawks I'd ever seen flew by very close before soaring off to another area of the parklands.

I remembered once while visiting the park many years ago that there was a small church a-ways down the park road from the main hiking trails and parking lot. For readers of the recent story in Mists and Moonlight about the Hunger Games Village, they may remember me writing about how things can sometimes come together unexpectedly. This was to happen again with the hiking excursion to Stone Mountain.

The first thing was running into the church's landowners who were only there for a few minutes to tidy up and take down some decorations. The Garden Creek Baptist Church remained with the Brown family when the state purchased their property through eminent domain for the park. (The Brown's owned a goodly portion of its eastern parts.) Thanks to the U.S. law separating church and state, however, the family was allowed to keep their house of worship which was built in 1897 and has continued in use ever since.

The Brown's were kind enough to let me in for a look-see and some very interesting conservations and observations about the family themselves. There was the mother, her thirteen-old-son, and eight-year-old daughter present. What impressed me about the children is you could tell how they had been influenced by a respect for others and the work ethic of their fore-bearers. The family had been on or near the property for many, many, generations. And this family definitely did have some fine Cherokee blood in them.

It was a pleasure meeting them and being shown around the church and learning about the family's history.

Above is the reconstructed Hutchinson Homestead main house originally built before the Civil War. It is a great wonder to just walk around it and observe how these hardy pioneers lived their lives and how. During some months the house is open for walking through, but just traipsing around, examining the outside, is close to amazing to see when compared to how many of us live today.

As to the second unexpected thing happening on this trip, it came about like this: the walk to the homestead was the last thing done and on the way there, there was only one other person walking the trail along with me who turned out to be the sister of that day's forest ranger. We all had a great time talking and one thing the ranger told me was that recently for a study to see how the park's wild animals were interacting with the public, trail cams had been set up in a part of the park that sees few hikers or others. They were delighted to find animals such as bobcat, bear, coyote, deer, raccoons and other species were using the trails at night!

Other photos here show what I believe are the barn, blacksmith shop, and maybe corncrib and meat house. The place is indeed a remarkable look at how many of our American ancestors once lived. The middle picture shows the friendly and knowledgeable Park Ranger Pearson and her sister who were preparing a backwoods hike to check things out near closing time. They were both wonderful people.

The Hutchinson Homestead up against the big granite dome.

And last but not least is the out-house at the farm(often called "the closet" or "bath with a path" in the old days ) plus a disappearing device (except for maybe places like New York City) know as a pay phone; the cells don't always work so well within the park - and, in a way, thank goodness for that!

In conclusion this writer would like to thank all for taking this historical nature trip along with me through the majestic Stone Mountain State Park.

A Tale of a Southern Belle

12/30/2013

Randy Godwin

Once Upon a History is pleased to present another guest story from author Randy Godwin. Randy has a way with his imitable writing style and use of historical vernacular that is unique. He brings a reader right into the woven tale. In this case the Southern Belle weaves a tale experienced by so many thousands of other Southern women in that cruel war fought so long ago between Americans.

I hope you enjoy this piece as much as I did on first reading it. Randy's excellent site can be found on Randy Godwin @ HubPages.

Life Before the War

Precocious child

" Looking back now, I wondah just what I was thinkin' befoah the woah. I suppose I was just a spoiled rotten brat, throwin' my temper tantrums anytime I didn't get my way about somethin'. But Papa always made sure the slave jumped to when I asked for anything, whether I really needed it or not. Papa wanted me to understand what a huge responsibility it was runnin' Spring Knoll Plantation I suppose. He was sorta tough like that, Pap was. I adored him so."

"Melinda McCall, he would sternly say, you got to keep these darkies in their place or otherwise they'll get so uppity they won't do nothin' you tell 'em to. And I did too, keep them in their places, I mean. It was the way of the world then down here in Georgia. We had no reason to think otherwise at the time, as this way of life was all we knew until the War of Northern Aggression changed everything once and for all."

Papa and Mamma

"Back then life was beautiful and easy for someone in my position. Papa and Mamma made sure I was raised right-in their estimation of course-and so were my friends, other members of the southern aristocracy no doubt, as we tended to mingle with our own kind. There's somethin' in the Bible 'bout that, Papa said. And Papa was always right. At least befoah the woah."

"The woah changed everything, of course. At first it was simply a glorious adventure, a chance to show them Yankees what chivalry and honah was all about. There were fabulous balls held to raise money for the cause. Me and many of my girl friends -Sadie and Rachel Brown were my tow closest confidantes-danced till dawn sometimes, our bright dresses twirlin' round, and we'd be completely worn out when the sun rose, all for the almighty cause. It was the least we could do."

"What? Sounds like a party? Well, let me tell you, my feet hurt so bad I had to go right home and have Cassie and Mimah-they was my own private dressin' slaves--draw me a hot bath and rub my feet with warm oil till I was relaxed enough to finally get some sleep. Yes, it was a tough time for me. It got worse befoah long though. It seemed at first Marse Robert and Stonewall would make short shrift of the Blue Boys, would end the silly woah and let us get back to living fine as we did befoah. It had to end soon we all said to each other. Many times."

Southern Belle

"And oh my lordy me, I had a fine beau at the time. Auburn hair, blue eyed and a fine young man who favored me as well. He lived in the next county over, across the river, where his father owned three thousand acres of fine cotton land. No-not as much as Papa, but still, quite a fine plantation. He would ride over every few days during the early stages of the woah. Who was he? Oh, I'm sorry, Jeffry Burton was his name. Any of the girls around here could have told you that and would almost swoon while utterin' the words. He was that good lookin'. But he didn't pay no attention to those other silly thangs, because he was in love with me."

I know what you're thinkin' now. I ain't dumb. I used to be beautiful, believe it or not. I had some pictures made one time by a travelin' photographer. I wisht I still had them. But as I was sayin', Jeffry only had eyes for me and we planned on marryin' when he come back from the woah. Except he didn't- come back from the woah, that is. It was only a month since we had kissed goodbye when he died on the battlefield. I saw his name on the list. I tell you, it was almost as if my name was on there too."

"While I was grievin' foah Jeffry, not knowin what day it was or where I was most of the time, Papa went off to the woah too. I didn't know it though, I was that heartbroken and alone. By the time I was able to cope again, Papa was gone off the fight the Yankees too. I was a lost soul after that A lost, soul if there ever was one. But as you can see, I survived. There were many much worse off than me. I just kept tellin' myself that, anyways."

"Morgan Riley was Jeffry's best friend during the woah, was with him when it happened. I had given Jeffry a new outfit to wear when he left for battle. I bought the softest and finest dove gray cloth I could find and had my seamstresses on the plantation sew him a masterpiece. When he first tried it on even the slave girls had to sigh.Of course...so did I. My heart still skips a beat when I remember how really fine he looked in that uniform. Like it's doing right this moment. Don't never let them tell you an old woman doesn't still have feelin's for her first beau, or her only beau in my case. Don't ever believe that at all."

"I told you he had auburn hair, didn't I? Long, almost to his shoulders it was. With his black knee high boots and seated on his favorite red horse-to match his hair I always teased him-- he looked more than handsome through my tears when he rode away. I cannot imagine him as they say he died. I hope it wasn't true what Morgan said. I never asked him personally if it was. I prefer to think it a rumor and always will."

After The War

"What's that you said, Missy? Oh, I didn't never tell you, did I? Grape shot, Morgan told my brother. Said Jeffry's head was almost gone after it hit him. But I didn't believe that tale, no ma'am. No, it was a clean shot through his heart that killed him I'll always believe. Through mine too it was. I never found another man who I loved like I did Jeffry. There were no more young men like him after the woah, I suppose they all died. Anyway, you asked me why I never married when Papa lost everything. Now you know."

"I was broke after the woah. Nowhere to go and no one to love me anymore. And the men who came back were all shot up, missing arms and legs, some without all their faces. No, compared to Jeffry they were no match for
my memories of love, nothing to catch my fancy at all. That's why now I teach young girls how to be ladies, how to act around the young and older men, how to find their own Jeffry I suppose. But that's fine with me. I've nothing else to do with my life now."

Spring Know Plantation

"So you see, I know exactly how sore your feet are after the dance last night. Here let me draw you a hot bath and I'll warm some oil for your feet. And while you're driftn' off to sleep, I'll tell you about when the Yankees burned Spring Knoll to the ground. I wish't I still had those pictures of me in my ball gown, but they were in the house when they burned it up. There was one of Jeffry and me together and he was lookin' into my eyes real intense like. Course they was black and white pictures and you couldn't tell how beautiful his hair really was, but still..."

Ancient Norsemen and Vikings - Visiting Ribe, Denmark and Friends

12/6/2013

We have indeed heard tell of the splendor of warrior Danes in days gone by, of all kinds of that nation, and of how their high-born men achieved deeds of valor. ~ Anon, Beowolf

When many of us think of Norsemen or Vikings thoughts come to our minds of fearless warriors from Scandinavia in their decorated dragon long boats , crashing through the cold Northern sea waters to fall on settlements, monasteries, and even Paris, France, to conquer and gain booty.

Who says you can't mix a little business with a whole lot of pleasure? In Denmark that was an an easy proposition for me to do. In the 1980s I spent some time with friends on Copenhagen's island of Zealand, the town of Roskilde in particular.

This was fortunate as concerns any telling of Norsemen, as in 1962 five Viking ships were discovered in the Skuldelev harbour next to Roskilde. They had been purposely sunk over a thousand years ago to block access to Roskilde's fjord. So long a period in the mud had left these scuttled boats in decent condition for future generations to view and wonder on..

Viking runes near Roskilde, Denmark

The first stone upright runes apparently appeared in Denmark around the 1st or 2nd centuries CE. They are still to this day largely undecipherable and must be taken more subjectively with intrigue than anything else. Although we do know that they were often inscribed and raised as tributes to loved ones, comrades and mighty chieftains. Some are more intimate, like the ones etched inside the great passageway of Maes in Scotland some 4,000 years ago with things like "Ingigerth is the most beautiful of all women" and more enigmatically "It is true what I say, that treasure was carried off in the course of three nights."

Kurt and Eva, two of the finest friends ever.

Back in the 1980s I had the good fortune to spend a week with the two friends at left, Kurt and Eva. My deep platonic love for these people, their children and friends and their countrymen in general, grew immeasurably during my two week stay in Denmark.

The Danish people are in my opinion among the world's finest in so many ways that a mere article can scarce describe them all. I decided to spend one week with the friends and then travel on to spots like Odense (of Hans Christian Anderson fame, for one thing) and specifically, Denmark's oldest town, Ribe, on Denmark's western North Sea coast.

Another friend bearing a gift of potatoes and a Danish gal-pal-friend, perhaps?

An Odense and Iron Age Denmark stop on
the way to Historic Ribe

Hans Christian Anderson's birthplace

Odense was a great stop on the way to Ribe but I'm afraid some of its best pictures have been misplaced over the years. One of the first sights I saw on arriving there was this archaeological dig. You can even see a human skull in the foreground. This city of Hans Christian Anderson's residence certainly lived up to its charm, despite the skull. Edvard Erikson's Little Mermaid statue in Copenhagen, based on Anderson's fairy tale, is enchanting but really quite small from what might be expected, but seems fitting nonetheless. Odense is definitely a place to visit for any trip to Denmark my friends. If not mistaken, it's also the country's second largest town after clean, enchanting, wonderful Copenhagen.

On arriving next on the peninsula of Jutland, not far from destination Ribe, there was this most interesting Iron Age reconstructed village - however, welcome reader, I'm not sure this village was on Jutland as it could have been near Odense, before the Jutland peninsula. In any case, the goat head on a sharpened spike of wood looks out over some very pretty Danish countryside. The lady reenactor said the village and house she was in were from around 2,000 years ago. She was very dedicated and knowledgeable about the era and its ways and implements. Those are bone pins holding her shawl and sleeves together by the way. Speaking of ways, it's time for our ride into Ribe now.

Historic downtown Ribe

Ribe is not only Denmark's oldest town, but for a thousand years it was the country's leading harbor which of course meant many a Viking voyage originated from the place. Archaeological finds have traces of settlement going back to the early eighth century. Craftsmen from these times made pottery, shoes, combs, tools and jewelery, just to name several items produced by these "Dark Age" Scandinavians. Somehow "dark" in any respect bar their warring, perhaps, seems the wrong word for these amazing and intelligent folk and their ferocious, far-ranging oceanic warriors in their fantastically built ships.

The Norsemen were the last Europeans to accept Catholicism from Aachen emperors and/or Rome, too. There is a resurgence of the old beliefs, or at least an interest in them at the present time in places like Europe and North America. With respect, but with some fun as well; Thor, Odin, Freya, and the other Scandinavian gods must surely be pleased with these developments, one might imagine. Some serious researchers are even suggesting nowadays that there may be something more to these gods than mere myths or allegory.

The North Sea

Before riding into Ribe proper I just had to see the North Sea. I'd read so much about in books. My friends it must be said this was the most desolate, cold and windy (the trip was in August) ocean, sea, or large body of water I'd ever seen and felt physically; and could only admire the Vikings traversing across it to the British Isles, Continental Europe, and yes, perhaps even as far as the middle of North America. That is if the famed, and to my mind proven, authenticity of the Middle Age writing on the Kensington runestone, found in the roots of a felled Minnesota tree in the 1890s, is real.

If so it pre-dates the appearance in the area by permanent European settlers by almost 500 hundred years. There are other possible examples of evidence about Vikings in Oklahoma, and writer/friend Randy Godwin may seem to solve a very intriguing question about an historical happening that occurred among the Native Americans in these areas, around this time, in the recent comments section of this story.

What reasons brought the Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish Vikings into world history was the seaborne attack on the Church of St Cuthbert on the islet of Lindisfarne in Northumbria, England. Those reasons were many: One being the emergence around this time of elites whose royal dynasties made the advancement of other men increasingly hard to come by. Another cause may have been over-fishing by the Scandinavians beginning around the 5th century or so. Hence, these men's eventual embarking on dangerous sea journeys to find riches and the sustenance of the bountiful seas once again.

Many of course stayed in the conquered parts of northern England, Scotland, and Normandy, France. The city of York, England's Viking archaeological finds are simply amazing. Of course these sea voyagers also colonized places like Iceland, and less permanently ( know believed because of climate change) Greenland and North America's Newfoundland, initially called Vinland by the voyagers.

To the left is a picture from my hotel room of the rooftops of downtown Ribe. Most unfortunately, on Sept. the 3rd, 1580, a terrible fire destroyed a large area of the ancient town. But, to an American, this was still quite a look at the past. Our oldest buildings and city, are, of course, St Augustine, Florida, with Jamestown, Virginia, coming next in 1607 after the failed attempt at colonization on Roanoke Island, North Carolina in the 1580s, that led to the famous "lost colony" mystery. As for the first, St. Augustine, it came into being about a decade and a half before the burnt parts of Ribe were being rebuilt.

At the risk of admitting some naughtiness, on waking the first morning, I noticed on looking out the window to across the street, a young and attractive woman, maybe on the second floor of the building she was in, outside her room on the balcony. She was stark naked, walking about, talking on the telephone. This was a sight you just didn't see often in America (at least not where I came from) and I innocently admired the lady's charms until her internal radar zeroed in on me and she looked up, saw the gazer, and then just sauntered on back inside.

To right is a picture of Danish school students doing some cleaning of the old buildings with toothbrushes. Obviously done for fun or perhaps a dare, it shows the spirit of the Danish people. They're good sports and like to have fun and laugh. Ribe was a great enjoyment to walk around that day. I noticed many languages on this mission of discovery and it's certainly no surprise. Yes, Ribe is a must see for any visit to Denmark my friends. I could hardly wait for the fall of night and what it might bring.

I wanted to take the night tour of the oldest part of the ancient town with the historical watchman to the left in the pics above as our guide. Before that little excursion, though, I checked out a very nice bar-restaurant and settled into a booth to down some excellent Carlsburg suds. It wasn't long before the two English girls in the right side picture walked by and accepted my offer of some conversation and a get-to-know each other. They were on tour from their jobs was the first thing I found out about them.

It was a great time we had talking about things. I don't believe they'd ever met a young American male before and had a lot of questions about the U.S. at the time. Reagan and some of the American government's policies were not a fave with them, that's for sure. The blonde young lady talked more than her red-headed friend who mainly just smiled despite some missing front teeth, and, it didn't take me long to discover something rather remarkable about her more engaging companion.

At some point, almost from the start, really, I noticed she looked very similar to a young woman I knew back in Carolina with the surname of Jackson. As the conversations continued I also noticed, and was amazed a bit, to discover her personality was very much like the Carolinian friends too. They say we all have a doppelganger somewhere in the world and that night convinced me of it!

Around ten o'clock or so the tour began and to be truthful about it the Carlsburgs had done their job a little too well, so I got to talking to some folks and can't remember all the details of the walk, but it was a lot of fun and interesting nonetheless. The night watchman guide did a lot of singing which I forgot what for until looking it up. He was announcing bedtime for Ribe's folk. Ah, the folly's of youth! Anyway, there were a good many well-preserved historical places and buildings. We probably saw the well known old town hall, which according to wiki was erected in 1496, obviously surviving the 16th century fire, and bought by the city for use as the town hall in the early 18th century.

The morning after an evening of hygge ( a word kind of hard to translate in English but perhaps a happy time with schnapps among friends will suit in this case) with kolde bord cheese and bread...and of course, another cup of mead!

The next stop after Ribe and then Flensburg, Germany, was the Danish isle of Als, close to the European continent. This was the business part of the trip ( no cloak-and-dagger stuff, I assure you dear reader; in fact, far from it) which was a bit of an odd but important mission that included some tools, a large spoon, and jars; all of which were used to collect soil samples. The Sonderburg town and its environs were the main area of interest and did the Danes in this off the beaten tourist path look funny at the crazy fellow bent over shoveling soil into jars. It was slightly embarrassing, no, on second thought, it was really embarrassing with my rear-end hiked up in the air while digging dirt into glass with that humongous spoon!

In conclusion to this brief trip through some of lower Denmark and introducing you to some of those friends, let me say that I fell in eternal love with the people of this remarkable nation, some of the brightest and friendliest in the world. And they even liked Americans! I do hope and pray they still do. Time may separate friends in a physical sense, but what's felt deep down and in the memory, lasts forever if one is fortunate enough to always keep the latter intact, and the heart will hopefully take care of itself in the grand plan of the Universe.

And to end this article perhaps an old saying from "the happiest people on earth", known to the Danes by heart, is fitting:
Hvad udad tabes, skal indad vindes. ( What was lost without will be found within.)

Aftermath of Glory by Guest Author, Randy Godwin

8/14/2013

It's my distinct pleasure to present the work of Randy Godwin, author and an all-around fine Southern gentleman's second guest offering here on Once Upon a History. You can find more of Randy's writings on his link above.

Hope you enjoy it as much as I did the first time around, and do remember friends Randy's many other subjects he writes about on his site include helping literally thousands of folks on questions concerning their camper equipment, pool vacs, and well, things like that.

I do believe you'll agree Randy is unique with his style of writing and the stories he chooses to employ it on.

Until we meet again my friends.

Author, Randy Godwin

Randy Godwin's Aftermath of Glory

My arms are so weak I can hardly lift them from my sides as I lie down on an old cot for a few minutes after hours of butchering my fellow human beings. Common men they were and are, for the most part.

Ordinary dirt farmer’s sons who vowed to fight for the honor of their cherished homeland against the godless Yankees threatening their very way of life. Yeah, they bought it, as did most of us. Now we are paying the price of loyalty and trust, innocence, chivalry, and honor, all fruitless dreams as we found out much too late.

Photo via U.S. National Archives

Palisades and chevaux-de-frise in front of the Potter House, Atlanta, Georgia, 1864. Photographed by George N. Barnard.

My name is Jacob Slade-- Dr. Jacob Slade, if you care for professional titles--but you would never consider many of the procedures I’d been forced to follow lately as professional medical practices. I'm truly sorry for this, as I do the best I can with what I have.

My sixteen year old aide--a tow headed, loyal, and rather intelligent boy--has fallen immediately asleep, still holding a severed arm he intended to discard before instant weariness changed his mind. He even has blood in his hair.

Their blood - our sweat and tears ...

Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman

Damn that Frenchman, Claude Minie!

Yes, he had invented an easier way to load a rifle with his Minie ball, but the low velocity bullets would simply flatten out on impact, shattering any bones they hit instead of going though and leaving a clean wound. Seldom were there bones to set in this war; amputations of entire limbs being the rule instead of the
exception.

Having nothing but raw moonshine to use as an antiseptic in place of medicinal alcohol, I can't remember if I drank more than I applied to the wounds of our poor boys in gray. Great beads of sweat rolled off my face as I sawed through bone and tendon, dropping down into open wounds along with both mine and the patient’s tears.

A nightmare from the depths of Hades some had described it. But it was much worse than that. I still awaken nights, soaking wet with the same sweat which blurred my eyes during that awful time. I can still smell the coppery odor of fresh blood when I wake from these nightmares. I can still hear the cries of those I mangled with care. I still can.

Return to the living ...

We were holed up just outside of Atlanta in an old farmhouse. The fighting nearby had been intense for quite a while as the boys in gray tried to slow down the inevitable surrender of the city. Finally, most of the rebels retreated with the noise of explosions and cannon firing diminishing along with their ranks.

We had finally patched up the remaining wounded, covering up the bodies of those we could do nothing for. Abel--my young aide--had finally awakened and quickly relieved himself of the cadaverous appendage he'd found himself still gripping. “That was a hell of a long day, wasn’t it Doc?” he observed.

It was amazing how quickly Abel had rebounded after his short slumber. I’d forgotten the resilience of youth long ago and wondered if I indeed had ever possessed such wonderful abilities of recuperation. “Too long, Abel," I replied. “We can’t last much longer taking on such a load of casualties. At least I cannot!"

"Here, let’s go over to the old store and see if we can scrounge up something to eat. You’d think I wouldn’t be hungry after all of the blood and guts I’ve seen today. A man’s got to eat though, no matter what his eyes remember.”

Atlanta Depot, 1864

Civilians of Atlanta, Georgia scramble to board the last train to leave under the mandatory evacuation order given by General William T. Sherman. Many wagons and belongings had to be abandoned. Photo taken September 1864, and published in 1911.

Terminus lights in the sky ...

It was quiet now on the outskirts of Atlanta, but in the distance northward the sky was ablaze as old Terminus was being cremated by the invading hordes of blue clad warriors. Many of them couldn't even speak English enough to ask for a drink of water they were so new to America.

There was no honor in this stupid war, no honor at all. But time to quit thinking about it now. A man has to think about pleasant things to be able to abide the horrible. I truly believe it’s a necessary survival instinct. I truly do.

Our boys had pulled out earlier and the wounded - those who had survived my surgical deficiencies, that is - were taken along with the Rebs in old farm wagons or carts. Abel and I would have to leave pretty soon also if we wanted stay out of the invader's hands. But not just yet.

The orange glow from the burning Atlanta skyline was so bright we needed no lantern to see our way down to the old Jew store. I rapped on the door until Solly Cohen peeked back at me from behind the drawn shade. His look of concern changed just as suddenly to a smile of relief when he recognized my face.

Atlanta Depot, September 1864

General Sherman's mandatory evacuation order in September 1864 led to this photograph of the last train leaving Atlanta. With overloaded cars, it will not have enough room for civilians to bring all of their belongings which can be seen littered beside the tracks beside the wagons they leave behind. Photo published in 1911, taken in 1864.

Preparing to travel south ...

“Oh Doc, I was afraid it was the Yankees already and we’re not packed to go yet!” Solly gasped. “Here now, you're almost falling down with weariness! Sit down and let me get you a drink!" At that moment I could feel all of my 57 years, feel them individually it seemed.

“Bring the bottle, Solly,” I said. “May as well drink all of it. It’ll just get broke anyhow when we hit them bumpy roads outside of Macon.”

Solly brought the whiskey bottle while his wife Ruth brought in a tray with two bowls of steaming stew and bread to sop the gravy with. The food was southern kosher I suppose, but at any rate, Ruth was a good cook. "Eat,” she said. The lady didn’t talk much either. Yes, Solly was a lucky man.

He was also my best friend in the world. We would be traveling in Solly’s large sales wagon. It took four horses to pull it, but we would travel in style. Solly had his entire life savings in jewelry in the enclosed quarters. He and Ruth were used to traveling around the country in the regular course of his business. But this wasn’t regular business as we all realized now.

Ruin's of Atlanta's railroad-roundhouse.

Atlanta, Georgia shortly after the end of the American Civil War showing the city's railroad roundhouse in ruins. Albumen print. Photo taken in 1866. Photo available in U.S. Library of Congress.

Different similarities ...

Strange how such different souls can find kinship in the worst of times, but then, isn't it often that way? We either find differences to hate one another with, or differences to remind us of our similarities. I suppose it’s all the same, just that we can’t often recognize the sameness for what it is. But me and Solly, well, we hit it off from the very first.

Growing up in the very deepest part of the south, I had never been around anyone from anywhere but southern Georgia. Other than the slaves we owned to run our plantation, everyone else was about the same. I never thought I’d see the day when I’d cozy up to a Jew, especially after hearing all about them from the preacher at the Clear Springs Baptist Church.

“The Jews killed Jesus,” Brother Morgan would shout from the pulpit. “They turned on their own and let the Romans nail him up on that ol' rugged cross to die for our sins”. He had said this many times during the long Sunday mornings I had sat through his unchanging sermons. It’s a wonder I hadn’t socked Solly in the mouth the first time he revealed his Jewishness to me."

Potter House's, Atlanta, Georgia

Potter's House in Atlanta housed Confederate sharpshooters until Union artillery made a specific target of it. Published in 1911. Photo taken in 1864.

Friend Solly ...

I had met him during my college days while studying medicine in Atlanta. Solly was merely trying to get through his education so he could be a teacher of history in some school up north. But instead, I married his sister.

Yes, that’s right, Solly became my brother-in-law. I’d met his sister after he'd invited me to go home with him one weekend instead of taking the train for the 200 mile trip home to Clear Springs.

Sarah was more than beautiful. I had never before been so affected by any southern belle--and they were more than a few who affected me--like Sarah did. Her eyes were wonderfully dark, seemingly able to look into my very soul. I was instantly, hopelessly, entranced by them. We were married just six months after having met.

I had to promise to follow her faith, the same as if I had refuted my own. I had no problem doing so, not with those eyes. There are few things gods have no sway over in this world, true love being one of them.

Ruins of Atlanta Depot

Ruins of Atlanta depot after burning by Gen. Sherman's troops, 1864. Published Nov. 9, 2011. Photo via Wikipedia.

Mourning for lovers ...

We were gloriously blissful in our joining and loved and lived as best we knew how. I finished my medical training and bought a new home, right in the middle of Atlanta. But happiness is sometimes short lived when it is so clear and easy.

Sarah died giving birth to our son after we had been married only a year. Even the bottle was no companion for me afterwards. Neither whiskey, nor the laudanum from my medical bag, could help dim the past. But they also had little effect on my memories. I cannot decide if this is good or bad. Not really.

I never fell in love again. Sarah was the perfection I had sought so long in my life, and once found, isn't worthy of repetition. I would not dare to look again for the elusive happiness I had once tasted. No mortal would dare.

So, here we were. Atlanta burning all around us and nowhere to go but south. I know my folks haven't forgiven my easy betrayal of my religion for the Hebrew temptress. No, they never called her that, at least not to my knowledge. But it was in their minds, nonetheless.

I don’t know how we will be received back home, especially Solly and Ruth. But I will be there to show the others they are real people, not merely murderers of Jesus in their old book of judgment.

Keeping the gentlemen's oath ...

Abel would also be coming along with us because he had nowhere else to go. His folks were both killed earlier in the war near the Tennessee/Georgia border. Abel volunteered to help me tend the wounded in a very bad battle near the area, so I can only do the same for him and repay his loyalty in kind. This seems to be another unspoken oath among ourselves. Oaths are often such, at least the best one’s are. But this is merely my humble opinion.

But I don’t really care at this point about the niceties of going home. Solly is my brother and his wife my kin also. They will go home with me, back to what’s left of my legacy among those who may often look askance in my direction.

I won’t worry about it now though, mainly because Sarah would not have approved. But she also knew I would never fail her family. After all, I gave her my oath as a southern gentleman.

Battle of Ramsour's Mill

8/2/2013

State marker in front of High School

The famous American General George S. Patton once said that compared to war, all other human endeavors shrink into insignificance. It's easy to see what the General meant by that as war and battle do tend to bring out the very best in people: heroism, sacrifice, courage, deep comradeship, and the willingness to give one's all to defend the tribe, so to speak. All true and more.

But General Patton failed to mention in the same thought it can also bring out the very worst in humankind as well. Personally, I don't believe our world
civilization will ever reach the stars until we leave the practice far behind us as a very sad collective memory. But that's another story; plus we should always admire the valor of those who gave their all for you and me and that certainly includes those who do so now and those that have done so in the past.

The sentiments in the above thoughts certainly don't mean that a people, nation, world, or galactic federation doesn't have the God-given or natural right of Creation to defend itself from aggressors, that wish only to take advantage of, plunder, enslave, harm, or exterminate peaceful others. And hopefully with your kind indulgence over all that said, let's begin this tale of a little battle that is generally unknown and that helped win the long-running war for American independence.

Remembering the fallen ...

Large rock dedicated to park's opening in 1997.

This large rock on the Revolutionary War's Ramsour's Mill battleground in Lincolnton, NC, may be one place were some of the conflict's killed were buried. There may be graves yet to be discovered in the surrounding area, too.

It also reminds us of at least a few things that were mentioned previously: men willing to risk their lives for the defense of what they believed in, and the elected leaders and law-makers their families and selves would live with.

And last but not least, whether they wished to continue serving a far-away king and his expansive empire, or govern themselves on the frontier land they had hand-forged into communities and farms with blood, sweat and tears, 3,000 miles away from Great Britain across the world's second largest ocean.

The entirety of where this battle took place has the distinction of covering the Lincoln County High School, children's playgrounds, athletic playing fields, parking lots and streets. The area where the memorial and heaviest fighting took place is rather small and about 1200 hundred feet west of the street in front of the school.

It really isn't much larger than a normal park picnic area; but this in no way takes away from what happened here and in the surrounding area, over 230 years ago, not by a longshot, as we shall now see with a recounting of the Battle of Ramsour's Mill on the 20th of June, 1780.

A prosperous North Carolina farmer's reconstructed cabin.

As the British high command considered its options in the late 1770s, the Southern colonies once again began to take on a most pleasing possibility of breaking the stalemate in the North with a new campaign full of promise and new recruits.

Although the British overestimated the amount of support they thought would greet any invasion by them of the Carolinas and Georgia, they weren't off the mark by much in this hope. Besides most of the Highland Scots and others in the eastern half of these states, there were literally tens of thousands of other inhabitants in the piedmont area of the Carolinas who were either actively loyal to Britain or leaning that way.

Part of the park where the patriots made their stand. Field and large parking lot beyond trees.

Plaque on doughnut stone.

The British capture of Charles Town (Charleston) in May of 1780 emboldened those Tories, or Loyalists, in their hopes of a royal victory in the backcountry parts of the Carolinas.

Just a few groups of Patriots, or Whigs, were left in the Carolinas after that disaster, with leaders like the Swamp Fox Francis Marion. There were other effective bands of fighters and other militia around Charlotte Town and other areas, too, for example, that were led by men such as Thomas Sumter and, of course, those in this story.

Banastre Tarleton's cavalry force, after the British victory at Charles Town, was soon far enough upstate to be running wild in the Waxhaws section, about sixty miles or so miles southeast of NC's west-central, Lincoln County, where Ramsour's Mill was located. At the time the county was much larger than it is today, being divided-up overtime into several others.

The patriot, General Griffith Rutherford, was camped with his small force close-by to Charlotte Town, towards the west of it, when he was informed that a large force of Loyalists were gathering at the mill near the small village of Lincolnton, not 20 or 25 miles away from where he and his volunteers were.

While moving his force that way, he called for help from other patriots, including those under the command of Lt. Col. Francis Locke, requesting they rendezvous with him at Mountain Creek, some 16 miles or so from were the Tories were gathering a much larger force at the Mill. As it turned out, the Loyalists forces were to have the Whigs outnumbered at least three times over.

Memorial stone in park with above the inscription.

The Loyalists in this region had been recruiting and assembling since the fall of Charles Town to help prepare the way for a British army under Cornwallis to advance successfully deep into the two Carolinas.

By mid-June the recruits signed up by Tories, Lt. Colonel Moore and Major Welch, began their assembling, over half a dozen miles west of some of their homes in Lincoln County, north of Lincolnton itself.

General Rutherford was far from being out of the loop concerning this concentration of men loyal to King George III, and sent word out through Mecklenburg County and, as far away east as Rowan County, for fighters to join his own Lincoln County men in taking on, and hope-fully, defeating and dispersing these homegrown adversaries.

On the night of June the 19th, Lt. Colonel Locke's command of 400 rebellion men broke camp and headed for what was now, in all reality, many hostile folk and relatives, and in parts a hostile neighborhood. About twenty-five percent of the Colonel's men were mounted, the others were on foot.

The local Tories may have assembled as many as 1300 men, encouraged by Tarleton's recent "victory" at the Battle of the Waxhaws. The cavalry commander was to for ever after gain the moniker of "Bloody Ban" after cutting down surrendering Americans there. A formidable force of Royalists now came together in glad-handing encouragement on receiving this news to be sure. Has there ever been a better example of close neighbors, and in many cases kinfolk, ready to war against one another? with one seeking to gain independence and freedom while the other was determined to remain true to mother England.

Colonial era spinning wheel from North Carolina

Perhaps this would be a good place to stop and mention the womenfolk involved in this brutal local contest of a civil war inside the overall Revolution.

These women, besides sending off many of their men with a kiss and victuals (food), would also have been busy tearing sheets for bandages and preparing local herbs and medicines for the inevitably wounded and injured. They also began preparing their small and
humble abodes to serve as care facilities for the badly injured, who would be in need of a place to heal from their hurts, many requiring days, or even weeks and months of convalescing.

All of this despite taking care of and lessening the fears of any children, mending or making clothes, and tending to crops and livestock and the rest of life's daily chores. What a strong and caring breed of remarkable women they were in those days.

And as an added thought, I believe if called upon in our present day, many of their descendants would be just as tough, caring and resilient. Many of our piedmont woman of today, including those in military service, prove this point, certainly they do.

Battleground with a small memorial park behind trees.

On June the 20th, as Locke's force approached on the main road to the soon to be scene of action, the Tory pickets began firing at them from a distance and then high-tailed it back to their main force at the Mills. The patriots then charged and turned the right flank of the Tories, thereby gaining the ridge behind where these trees are. (See photo below.)

Fierce fighting then developed that caused Colonel Locke to begin to pull back his outnumbered men; but cursing, a Captain Dickey said no way to this move; and his men's muskets, some of which were rifled, and with his deadly shooters at the rifles triggers, were indeed to turn the day into a vital victory over their more numerous Royalists foes.

Interestingly, the official pension files have Dickey calling out, "Shoot straight, my boys, and keep on fighting. I see some of them beginning to tumble!"

And tumble they did, for the Whig chaps dropped at least 150 opponents to their sharpshooting, not to mention some more in hand-to-hand combat.

The patriots leader, General Rutherford, hadn't even reached the field of battle yet, but when he did he found the Tories confused and battered. A white flag was also waving among them, requesting a truce to aid the fallen.

The General simply took the opportunity to be merciful and take these beaten men prisoner, but while negotiations were going on, most of them that could, fled like scattered rabbits from the field and only about four dozen of the defeated were actually captured.

Both sides seem to have suffered about the same number of casualties, maybe as many as 140 killed and over 200 wounded plus those captured by Rutherford. A couple dozen Tories managed to reach Lord Cornwallis in South Carolina with the low down on the set back. The rest of the beaten skedaddled back to their cabins in their different counties with the onus of defeat hanging over them, and, with the knowledge of the independence-seeking inhabitants determination to fight, and fight hard at that.

In addition, this stunning, lop-sided defeat, in the weeks, months and even next few years to come, caused many of these loyalists to sit out the war or change their allegiances and actually join up and fight alongside their former foes. And many with outstanding service and heroism at that. It was a wise choice by those who did.

What if?

What makes this generally unknown battle so important to many historians is its demoralizing affect on the King's followers in the central part of the Carolinas. It probably deprived General Cornwallis of untold numbers of indigenous recruits that might have turned several American victories over the next year or so into victories, or at least stalemates of some sorts, for the Royalist side.

Can we imagine what might have happened at King's Mountain the following October had the already uphill fighting, Over-the-Mountain Men, who had encircled and fought to a victory their more numerous foes, been up against an extra six or seven hundred red-coated Tories- assuming that extra number could be armed properly-under the Scottish leader of these marauding soldiers, Patrick Ferguson? In all fairness, though, the Tories had the less effective smoothbore guns compared to the mountain men's rifled muskets, which made a big difference. But the esprit de corps was with the Wataugans, and that is what, when you get down to it, won the battle.

Or what of his Lordship's trek up through North Carolina to do battle at the critical fight in 1781 at Guildford Courthouse? Which turned out a very pyrrhic victory for him, no less for the shortages of local loyalist's he had counted on rallying to his banners in that part of northern North Carolina. What might have happened to patriot recruiting and intelligence gathering efforts had the opposite occurred at the Mill's battle? And for that matter, the far too many hard fought Patriot and Tory skirmishes and battles in both Carolinas that there later were, than to list on here?

Of course, all this is somewhat speculation, but there can be no doubt that several more thousand followers of the British and Cornwallis would have made things even dicier than they already turned out to be for those seeking independence and self-rule. Thank goodness for those 400 vastly outnumbered but brave, stalwart, and victorious Carolinian Americans at Ramsour's Mill that warm June day, way back when in 1780. They, and their womenfolk, holding the home fort down while their men fought, are not forgotten and nor should they ever be.

Images of Valor Dying: by Guest Author Randy Godwin

7/17/2013

The first time Randy Godwin really came to my attention was about two years ago, when judging a writing contest. I came upon Randy's submission, that was a story set in Georgia's Okefenokee swamp, and was a taut semi-fiction piece about an ancestor of his who was a lawman on the trail of some no-gooders that climaxed in the midst of that deadly abode.

In any event I thought it one of the best submissions I had perused out of about a thousand read entries. As a matter of fact I gave it third place overall, and Randy may be learning this fact for the first time right here.

After the contest I started reading more of Randy's work and we became friends. It can truly be stated that Randy is of a vanishing breed called the True Southern Gentleman. He comes from a part of Georgia were a man's word and handshake still stand for something. By the way, Randy is also married to a lovely lady named Beth, who keeps him in line on the rare occasions it becomes necessary, so she says.

Author, Randy Godwin

Randy's family goes back many, many generations on their farm and property. He is an excellent writer of the Old South in Georgia and elsewhere. He is also in a unique position with his stories, as he often mixes fact with fiction, with his own outstanding tales from the region. So, in so many words he often writes semi-fiction that delivers a story a reader will be unlikely to forget.

With that, dear readers of the Carolinian's Archives, it is my humble pleasure to introduce you to the first guest post of Randy's here. It seemed an excellent companion to a Civil War story honoring the 150th anniversary of Gettysburg; in which Randy's brother usually participates as a re-enactor, and did participate this year of 2013.

By the way friends, Randy Godwin at Hubpages.com has a fantastic variety of stories covering many subjects such as his awesome collection of S Georgia Amerindian artifacts and the mysterious "Carolina Bays" that cover the SE from his area to the Carolinas.

He's also an expert on RV equipment, Pool vacs and other similar things, and has helped thousands of folks with questions pertaining to them.

Randy Godwin on Hubpages

Images of Valor Dying, by Randy Godwin

My chosen profession has become a burden to me now. What was once an exciting and wondrous delving into the art of photography has quickly become a morbid obsession. Gerald Baxter is my professional name. A name once held in mediocre esteem by my fellow travelers, but of late has become a symbol for a type of ghoul or specter of doom.

I cannot blame them though, cannot feel any animosity for their looks of distaste thrown my way when I erect my equipment of light gathering. I am not their enemy, but still they shake their heads as I approach them as if a mere word to them would seal their fate, would forecast a certain death captured for all to see back home where they lived. No, they have the right to think so, these poor lads in arms.

Especially after today they may believe I am somehow responsible for their fate, somehow complicit in the whole disaster of trying to route the Rebs from behind the old stone wall below Marye’s Height. I’d prepared my glass plates with care early that morning and finally, after the fog lifted around ten, used them all. And yes indeed, I captured the faces of dead men, caught their last smiles and tears before they took the deadly walk towards the confederate lines.

Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman

Acts of Mortal Gods

I must admit to there being a certain feeling of godlike ability, a sense of control despite there being none at all. The mere magic of burning a likeness of a future dead man into a glass plate seems somehow wrong now. But I must do it again. Someone has to do it. It is one of those things we have no control over, one of the events in our lives which seems hell-bound and meant-to-be. You know what I mean, certainly you do.

Somehow it doesn’t seem like war to me, and I suppose it really isn’t. Sure, I could catch a stray bullet, or perhaps an artillery round could go awry, but there is always a chance of death in our short lives no matter the circumstance. I cannot see myself dying near the scene of a battle, but I suppose it could happen easily enough.

I never dreamed when I was serving an apprenticeship to the famous photographer, Matthew Brady, that I would be here now, making visual records of this sad American struggle. I never thought we would actually do it, would kill our fellow citizens, all for such silly reasons.

For what?

My job is not to figure the why of it, but to simply get it down on glass. Somehow it seems shameful for it to be, so I cannot say different now.

Burning the Glass

No, this is my job and I’ll do it as best I can; will burn the images of time into inanimate plates of former sand crystals and immortalize those who paid the ultimate price. As I said, someone has to do it. I move the horse drawn wagon containing my photography equipment from battle to battle, over rough roads and often through the fields of the local farmers.

They sometimes give me vegetables from their gardens or perhaps even a chicken or smoked ham in exchange for taking pictures of their family members. They too gaze in wonder at me, as if I am indeed somehow special to this angry world. But special I do not feel, not at all my friends.

Sometimes I meet with my peers, other men much like myself, living their lives while they record the demise of other not-so-fortunate warriors. Their guilt at such is similar to mine. I can see it in their eyes too; can tell it from their words and actions, even the way they move slowly about their tasks tell a tale of dread and misgiving.

Waiting to Bury the Dead and Gaining Ground to Rest In ...

The dead claim no sides in this battle. They are beyond any glory and honor, if there is such in this war. They lie still upon the battlefield until the often former slaves rush in to pick them up and deposit their remains into some cold, lonely hole, often in the very earth they have fought so desperately for. They have this spot of turf for their eternal resting place as if this was the original plan before the battle began.

I wonder will my work actually make a difference in the lives of those who will eventually lay eyes upon the long dead warriors. It is hard to look a upon these colorful scenes through the camera lens and imagine the picture as it turns out in shades of gray, black, and white long after the battle is over. It’s almost as if the drabness of the finished product somehow purposely needs the cold gray light to lend sobriety to the scenes of war. And, perhaps, it does.

So off I go, setting up my camera, finding a spot to work unencumbered with danger or guilt, of not being a main character in this unhappy charade. No, it isn't an easy job to remain so detached from the conflict, but then, there are always such men attached to these wars.

Those who make the important decisions to attack or defend are often in same situation. I cannot but wonder if those men had to fight their own battles if there would ever be any. Somehow I think not.

Robert F. Hoke, Stephen D. Ramseur- Young Civil War Generals From Lincolnton

7/9/2013

Marching feet, Johnny Reb,
what's the price of heroes? ~REM

Dedicated to the Gettysburg National Military Park and the descendants and relatives of Generals Hoke and Ramseur

"Major tell my father I died with my face to the enemy." ~ I.E.Avery

Robert Frederick Hoke

Avery's brigade of nine hundred men quickly came to attention that 2nd day of July at Gettysburg ready to attack Cemetery Hill. Colonel Avery was riding Colonel Robert Hoke's large and faithful war-horse, Old Joe. He was in command that fateful evening of Hoke's Brigade as the usual leader of the unit, Hoke himself, was convalescing after being wounded at the previous battle in May at Chancellorsville.

It was a good thing Hoke was absent as he probably would have fallen like his replacement I.E. Avery did. As can be seen at the beginning of the story, the brave Avery wrote his final words on a scrap of paper. He certainly did die with his face to the enemy; stoically till unconsciousness, hours later in a makeshift hospital behind the lines.

Robert Hoke's photo via wikipedia.org

North Carolina not only had the highest number of soldiers at Gettysburg from any Southern state but also suffered the largest number of casualties as any other there as well. (It should, of course, be remembered that the other states suffered terribly, too). It well earned its appellation of First at Big Bethel, Foremost at Gettysburg and Last at Appomattox. Meaning it had the first southerner killed in the first land battle of the war, reached the farthest distance on the Gettysburg battle's third day during the Pickett-Pettigrew-Trimble Charge, and was the last to fire its arms at the enemy on April the 9th, 1865, the day of the surrender of Lee's vastly depleted, but still defiant remnants of an army.

North Carolina also happened to have had one of the last state legislatures to approve an ordinance of secession from the Union. It can be said with some accuracy, to have been a torn state on whether to secede or not, and remained so throughout the war in certain places, particularly the mountains and a couple of mid-state counties largely settled by Moravian and Quaker pacifist- leaning religious folk.

Robert Hoke was born in this house on the first floor room to the right on May the 27th, 1837. Lincolnton as the small town and capital seat of Lincoln county, N. C., in the west-central part of the Old North State, was a great place for a young boy to grow up in the mid-19th century.

Robert and his friends, like future general Dodson Ramseur, enjoyed the fields and woods all about, especially the Revolutionary Battleground of Ramsour's Mill. (That story is on Once Upon a History and was an honor to write about.)

Robert Hoke is one of the lesser known generals of the Civil War, as he never attempted to capitalize on his fame during the years after the end of the conflict. Many others did do so by newspaper articles, books and memoirs, and back and forth arguments on battle strategy's, wrong decisions and right decisions; by generals such as Longstreet, Early, and Pickett for the South, and men like Meade, O.O. Howard, and Sickles for the North; just to name several high-ranking vets who stirred things up between themselves and others over the years after the war. Which also kept their names in front of the public through the newspapers and the time when the personal recollections and histories were initially written for future historians' source material.

Daniel Barefoot's excellent bio of Robert Hoke which is available for purchase through the Book Shoppe

Perhaps this is what General Hoke may have looked like, riding home on Old Joe, although the horse was black-coated.

Rewarded for outstanding service ...

Citizen-soldier Hoke's rise through the ranks was meteoric. Volunteering in June of 1861 as a second lieutenant, by June of 1864 he'd attained the rank of major general after his forces retook Plymouth, NC in April of 1864 -- becoming, at age twenty-six, the youngest Southern officer of that rank in the Rebel army. And although very magnanimous to his defeated foes at Plymouth, one very unpleasant duty of this operation for Hoke was having his sergeants pick-out turncoat rebels from the captured blue-coated ranks for a traitor's hanging. To avoid that fate, many of these unfortunate soldiers had taken overdoses of morphine but were walked off its effects. This desperate action by the men was no doubt the result of their knowledge that 22 rebel deserters, by the order of General Pickett, had been hung at Kinston the previous February.

Civil War historians, and Hoke himself, realized, that if given just a day or two more in eastern Carolina, he would have cleared Union forces from the state at New Bern, returning all its resources to the Confederacy. But it was not to be, as his 7,000 men were immediately recalled to protect Richmond after the start of Grant's many- pronged offensive in May of 1864. Hoke's troops were in the vanguard of repulsing General Ben Butler's armies in-between Richmond and Petersburg as Lee and the Army of Northern Virginia battled the massive Federal army elsewhere. His division was then pivotal, with now, nearly 8,000 men, in handing General Grant one of his worst and bloodiest field defeats of the war at Cold Harbor, thus saving Richmond and earning the accolades of the people of the capital, the South in general, and Lee himself.

Hoke's military war record was generally outstanding and varied, fighting in the war's first action at Big Bethel, Virginia, to one of the war's last major battles leading his by then much respected veteran division of two North Carolina brigades (which included the brave and hard-fighting, but sometimes scared, teenage Junior Reserves), plus Hagood's South Carolina brigade and Colquitt's Georgia one, at Bentonville, North Carolina. As mentioned previously, he missed the mighty struggle at Gettysburg due to his wounding at the battle of Chancellorsville, perhaps, something that was meant to be as he most likely would have died there leading his, then, brigade. Fate apparently had a different plan in store for this remarkable and beloved American soldier.

Many considered during the war that Robert F. Hoke was thought highly enough by Robert E. Lee to become his protégé during the autumn of 1864. They were certainly close and what an intriguing thought and outstanding achievement to think that Lee might have given command of the Army of Northern Virginia to a man but 27 years old in case of his death or disability. Come the winter, though, Lee reluctantly sent the division, certainly one of the finest in his army, to defend Fort Fisher. After that he held up the Yankee advance on Wilmington(where he evacuated crucial supplies on the eve of its fall , delaying the inevitable, but allowing the South to fight on in NC), and later brilliantly led his division in battle at Wise's Forks and Bentonville.

In his later years, Hoke was to take on an almost uncanny resemblance to ole Marse Robert, too, one of the greatest war commanders in history and most venerated by his troops and fellow citizens, including his soldier opponents and many others in the North, and, world-at-large for that matter.

The photo at left was formerly called the Pleasant Retreat Academy ( now called Memorial Hall) and both Hoke and boyhood friend Dodson Ramseur were taught here as youngsters.

After the surrender of Joe Johnston's army at Bennet's Place in NC to Sherman (almost three weeks after Lee's surrender), Robert returned home to a devastated Lincolnton. Union general Stoneman's cavalry raid and occupation had seen to that in spades. But Hoke returned home with hope. He refused to wallow in melancholy like many others were.

He quickly hitched his faithful war horse Old Joe to the plow and started growing crops on the Hoke's family land. The man also set about to rebuilding his State and the South in general, and even at one point was offered high honors and the governorship of N.C. on a platter, all of which this modest and highly respected Cincinnatus -like man turned down. He later helped rebuild the industry of NC and opened a resort and spring water bottling company near-by to Lincolnton, where he was to live and pass away on July the 12th, 1912.

Hoke was buried with full military honors in Raleigh's Oakwood cemetery. His goal was to leave the war behind and reunite the country and help his State recover during the harsh years of Reconstruction and beyond. Hoke rarely gave newspaper or magazine interviews, never wrote books or a memoir, thus avoiding the second-civil-war of words that went on through the years amongst so many other veterans from both sides.

He married Lydia Ann Maverick Van Wyck in 1869, producing children which included Dr. Michael Hoke, famed pioneer orthopedic surgeon and founder of the Scottish Rite Children's Hospital, one of the five orthopedic consultants in developing the Shriners' Hospital for Children. He was also a close adviser to President Franklin D. Roosevelt in these matters.

Stephen Dodson Ramseur

Stephen Dodson Ramseur
Photo via wikipedia.org

Ramseur graduated from the United States Military Academy in 1860 as a second lieutenant. He was also a close childhood friend of Robert Hoke as mentioned previously.

Dodson fought in the 1862 early summer battles called The Seven Days series of battles where he was badly wounded but noticed by General Lee and was also elected by his men the commander of the 49th NC regiment, after which he was sent home to heal.

Lincoln County and its environs were where men like these hunted, walked or rode, swam, and learned the ways of nature as boys. In short, it was their land, their heritage, their country. And when the call came to defend it, they answered that call patriotically.

The middle and western parts of NC had a low ratio of bonds-people to the white population and many unionist-leaning folk in its regions. But most men, at least in the beginning, answered the call of duty in their mostly insular communities as they still do today in this world of instant communication. It was a smaller world back then - no instant news to most of the populace via TV or internet, and of that fact we should well remember. Although telegraphs were in use, they were generally utilized by commanders to Richmond or Washington.

The small group of elitist lawmakers of the South were mostly large acreage agriculturists, but were still wrong to hold on to the practice of African bondage when others had abandoned it for moral reasons, as well as barely living-wage industrialization and yeomanry farming. And we should also realize it had not been all that many decades before, that the institution ( though fought over at the Articles of Confederation in 1787 & subsequently) had been legal and tolerated in many states outside the South and even countries like France and Great Britain.

Of course places like the New and old England had a much different ratio of whites to blacks, which also factors in when we consider the history of the subject going way back before even the Declaration of Independence, particularly in states like SC and later Mississippi. What is generally unknown is the number of Carolinian's in power positions, like the Laurens, for example, who tried to end the practice starting in the Revolutionary War years. Those who followed in their footsteps were finally defeated in this desire by a small cabal of powerful politicians and plantation owners around the 1830s.

The NC soldiers often grumbled about " a rich man's war and a poor man's fight", but the average Southerner able to bear arms fought for what he considered a direct military threat to his land, his family, neighbors, and constitutional rights. Abraham Lincoln's call for 75,000 volunteers, including some thousands from NC, to put down the rebellion, seemed to seal the deal for succession; not to mention the fact that that would have meant North Carolinian's would be fighting against their fellow southerners if the nicknamed Tar Heel State actually did stay in the Union..

The appellation of Tar Heel is thought to do with NC soldiers tendency to stick to their ranks like they had tar upon their heels. In other words - hard-fighters who tended to bravely hold together, stand fast as it were, in the fiercest battles. An irony, in a sense, because the highest desertion rates also came from NC. And in addition was the fact that one of the state's important industries, for quite some time, had been tar extraction from its many, thick stands of pine trees.

Promoted by the Commander himself

After the battle at Sharpsburg, or Antietam, the bloodiest single day in American history, Dodson returned to the army recovered from his wound received at the Seven Days' Battle as colonel of the 49th N.C. regiment, only to find himself promoted to brigade command and given his brigadier general's star on Nov. 1st, 1862. At the youthful age of twenty-five, he was the youngest general in the army on that day, which apparently had been promoted by none other than the commanding general of the Army of Northern Virginia himself, Robert E. Lee.

In one of the South's greatest victories of the war at Chancellorsville, in May of 1863, Ramseur's, then, brigade, was in the lead of Stonewall Jackson's stun-ning, victorious flanking attack. General Dodson's men were fated to suffer 50% casualties in that very famous surprise assault.

Ramseur fought on bravely again at the titanic struggle of Gettysburg, through to the next year's sanguinary two day Battle of The Wilderness, and the following bloody contest on May the 12th, defending the lines at Spotsylvania Courthouse; here he was wounded again but refused to leave the battlefield.

Ramseur was promoted to major general and took over Early's division after Spotsylvania, which made him the youngest major general to ever graduate West Point. He fought from there at places like Cold Harbor, against Grant's massive army attempting to take Richmond on the run.

And he later followed General Early's small Army of the Shenandoah on its desperate invasion of the North in an attempt to draw off some of the federal army besieging Petersburg and Richmond -- with perhaps a chance at freeing prisoners-of-war at Point Lookout in Maryland or even taking, relatively speaking, a lightly defended Washington City itself.

Stephen Dodson Ramseur was to later, bravely, fall mortally wounded with Early's Shenandoah Valley army trying to rally his out-numbered and retreating men in Oct. of 1864 at the battle of Cedar Creek, Va. His remains were sent home for an honored burial.

Ramseur's grave in St. Luke's Episcopal Cemetery, with his wife and child buried beside him.

The general's original monument was destroyed during hurricane Hugo. The Daughters of the American Revolution replaced it with the one shown here.

Historic St. Luke's Episcopal Church in Lincolnton, NC where Ramseur is buried.

Union and Confederate military veterans gathered in Gettysburg in 1913, on the 50th anniversary of the end of the battle to remember the fallen and attempt personal reconciliations which were successful. At least for many of the vets closure had come at last; after all, in the end they were both just American soldiers doing their patriotic duty as they saw it.

Photo via wikipedia.org.

Hiking the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest and a Small Forest Logged Close to Home

6/17/2013

Murmuring out of its myriad leaves,
Down from its lofty top rising two hundred feet high,
Out of its stalwart trunk and limbs, out of its foot-thick bark,
That chant of the seasons and time, chant not of the past only but the future.

These immortal lines from Song of the Redwood Tree by Walt Whitman seem a fitting way to begin this story of a lost forest. It was written in the 1870s as an ode to their deaths in ever-increasing numbers by the voracious hand of man.

One memory many of us have from over the years was a favorite local or nearby forest we once knew. Maybe one we played in as a child or even walked through and enjoyed as an adult. Perhaps even one just driven by on occasion and admired for its natural beauty alone. In many cases these forests are no longing standing in the breeze, having been cut down for one reason or another.

What brought the idea to mind to write something on those lost woods, and later the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest, happened like this: About seven years ago I moved to a sub-division in west-central North Carolina that to my delight had a good-sized forest with meadows behind it.

The wet and wanna-be Sampson resting from his labor to topple the mighty pillars

Photo courtesy of Randy Godwin.

After introducing myself to the aged but sprightly owner, (whose German family had owned several hundred acres of the area since before the War Between the States) he kindly gave me permission to walk its nature trails and meadows anytime I wished.

The land was full of wildlife, like deer, raccoon, turkeys, and reptiles (especially box turtles) and delightful, skittering gray lizards on the trees. I even taught some very young nephews and nieces about nature there at times, what certain tracks belonged to what animals and how to identify plant life; a nearby place to teach and instill the joys of nature.

There was one ancient oak tree in particular that had been spared when the land was used for farming back in the mid-nineteenth century, probably kept as a property marker or something. Anyway, it was magnificent: at least 80 feet tall and very thick. It may well have been two hundred years old. Sometimes the children and I would go to it and place our hands on its venerated bark and make a wish, or the children would say a prayer.

Above is an ancient and sacred oak from southern Georgia kindly contributed by writer friend , Randy Godwin. Randy's lovely wife Beth is standing beside the tree, hope she is visible to you in the picture. Randy is excellent at writing short historical fiction pieces about the Old South in southern Georgia during, and right after, the War Between the States. He should be good as his family roots go way,way back on their property and farm. I encourage any interested reader to watch for a guest story coming soon from this talented gentleman on Once Upon a History.

Here is the first and principal former nature trail, now nothing but a widened, ugly logging road. It was very depressing walking this to get to the main part of the forest, as you might imagine it would be, looking like a hurricane had ravaged the place.

Everything was deathly quiet as if a death had indeed occurred, which in a way it had. What had happened to cause the cutting down of all the big trees ( including to my great sadness, the ancient oak,) is what has been happening in this county and many other areas for quite a while now.

With the down turned economy, many land owners have been more or less forced to sell off their big, and not so big, trees. I don't blame them but it can be heart-breaking nevertheless to see a beautiful woodland go down. The gentleman who owned this property once told he wanted to keep the forest as it was with the wish of one day having children's rides on Disney-like small trains going along the nature paths. All a forgotten dream now I suppose.

This photo is an example of the destruction; left behind, unusable cuts of wood for some reason . Although there were still some deer tracks and all the piled up cuttings will probably be great for lizards and such, the damage to the becoming endangered eastern box turtles must have been very bad, just to name one of the forest's species most likely negatively affected.

Sure the woods may recover their former majestic nature in time, but that time will be a very long one in coming I'm sad to say.

All that's left of the Grand Old Oak Tree

Part of the original homestead house from before the Civil War times was still extant before the logging. Local archaeologists and the family had gone over the homes remains for artifacts and souvenirs pretty well by the time I was walking the property. One interesting thing left was that one small side of the house was still standing and was composed of hand made bricks from the mid-nineteenth century.

The only thing I could find that was left, on looking over the destruction, was this one small piece of brick which I placed on one of the cut down tree stumps . All that was left of a family home that had stood the elements in at least part for over 150 years . It probably was mowed over as it stood in the way of the majestic old oak tree and one other nearby that was very nearly as big.

Roaring, cold, and clean river in Park

Here is a river in the Joyce Kilmer National Recreation area. How wonderful to have such a flow of mountain water in the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest which is a large area right below and adjacent to the Great Smoky National Park.

As the intense logging of the southern mountains was occurring in the later 1900s and early parts of the 20th century, the trees in this part were only saved by a bridge being washed out during a flood around 1920. Consequently the logging companies couldn't get their trains up here and this magnificent hardwood grove was spared for future generations to walk amongst and wonder at what was once so much a part of the southern Appalachians. The economic crash of 1929 and subsequent drop in lumber prices further helped protect these giant majesties. Some are so old they are dying and thankfully will be left where they fall. The forest is left as pristine as possible in these regards.

Thankfully this wanna-be Sampson turned out a bust!

Some of the yellow poplars, as can be seen here, are over 400 hundred years old, 20 feet in circumference, and 100 feet high.

After World War One, Veterans of the Foreign Wars asked the government to set aside an appropriate stand of trees a a memorial to the soldier-poet Joyce Kilmer who was slain in that conflict.

A better place couldn't have been chosen as it was one of the last virgin stand of hardwood trees left in the Appalachians.

And so my friends although we may lose those smaller and privately owned forests near us or in our memories, we at least know that something is permanently protected that we may visit from time to time if fortunate enough to do so. If anyone is interested in more details on the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest and directions to it this website is the best the writer found: http://www.main.nc.us/graham/hiking/joycekil.htm

Odin - the Wise Woman- Ragnarok - the Final Destiny of the Gods by Phyllis Doyle

The March of the Highlander

An Odense and Iron Age Denmark stop on the way to Historic Ribe

Historic downtown Ribe

Randy Godwin's Aftermath of Glory

Their blood - our sweat and tears ...

Return to the living ...

Terminus lights in the sky ...

Preparing to travel south ...

Different similarities ...

Friend Solly ...

Mourning for lovers ...

Keeping the gentlemen's oath ...

Remembering the fallen ...

What if?

Images of Valor Dying, by Randy Godwin

Acts of Mortal Gods

Burning the Glass

Waiting to Bury the Dead and Gaining Ground to Rest In ...

Robert Frederick Hoke

Rewarded for outstanding service ...

Stephen Dodson Ramseur

Promoted by the Commander himself

Archives

An Odense and Iron Age Denmark stop on
the way to Historic Ribe