Battlefield

 September 10, 1861

It was a warm late September day the morning I left my home in Circleville Ohio to join up with the Union Army. My mama fixed a big breakfast for all of us, my favorites. The table was heavy with red eye gravy and her buttermilk biscuits. My sister’s eyes were heavy with tears. Later I would dream of those biscuits, the thought of them kept me going. I had sat down with ma and pa just the night before and told them of my plans and they were mad, mad as wet hornets. Pa shook his head, said he understood, then walked out to the pumpkin fields to clear his mind. He always did that; escaped to the fields or to the barn in his quiet way. Ma was different. She hollered and yelled at me. Ma usually called me by her pet name for me ‘Punkin’ but today she called me a dang fool. She said that Mr. Lincoln needed men, not boys. But a few weeks ago Eddie joined up and he’s been writing letters back home to Mollie. Mollie is now sweet on Eddie but I’m sweet on her. I walk by her farm on the way to town and sometimes I take her a ripe apple. I can tell though that she also thinks of me as a boy; I’ll show her! So I decided that I would join up too. The men at the induction center they don’t really check your age if you look the part of a soldier. So a few weeks ago I started letting my few chin hairs grow in and I figured that I would tell them that I’ve always been small because I was born early. Then I figured that I would go fight in a few skirmishes down in Kentucky, write a few letters home to Mollie, then I just walk on home and ask Mollie to marry me. Pa’s already promised me a nice plot of land on the far side of the creek next to the apple orchard. Mollie and I can build us a little house and one day I’ll take over the whole farm.

It’s about a 20 mile walk to the induction center in Columbus as the crow flies. So with as little fanfare as possible I walk to my room to gather my things after ma finished yelling at me. I don’t reckon I should take much as I figure the army will give me clothes and a gun. So I bundle up a few things, the little plastic yellow horse that I had won at the fair last summer. But the most important item was that little picture that I have of Mollie. She gave it to me last night when I told her that I was joining up. She had such a look of pride in her eyes! For once I did feel like a man going out to defend my country. I walked out of my house for the last time that fine fall morning and my ma and my sister Becky were waiting for me on the porch. Ma’s face was wet with tears and she kept mopping her face with that pretty flowered apron she sewed last winter. Becky flopped down on the porch with Yeller, the dog and buried her face in his fur. I gave them each a hug and a kiss on the cheek and started off down the road. As I passed the barn I saw Pa, he was leaning against the door with his head down. He looked up at me square in the face and gave me just a little nod of his head. And I knew we had a meeting of the minds. At seventeen, I was suddenly a man in his eyes. And I knew that even though I was scared and I likely hadn’t thought this thing through, I could not turn back. I was heading to war.

Circleville was a flurry of activity. There were men of all ages there to join up, eager to defend their country. I stood in line for a long time and listened to them whoop and holler at each other. The smell of sweat and fear filled the air with a pungent odor. When it was my turn, I walked into the door. I was trying to pull myself to my full height by straightening my back and holding my chin high. At the induction center, Capn Davis from the 42 Voluntary Infantry looked me straight in the eye and said, “Son, how old are you?” “Nineteen, sir”, I said in the manliest voice I had within me. With a loud laugh and a slap on the back he accepted me into his unit. He said, “Son, we’ll be headin’ down into Kentucky to fight. I won’t let you die. I won’t leave you son” I was seventeen and stupid and I believed him.

Later that night I was to sleep in an army camp outside of town. The camp had several fires lit and pots of beans and fatback boiled for our dinner. I tried to seek out someone to buddy up with and I found one fellow who didn’t look to be too much older than me, his name was Jake. He told me that he was from Pleasant Corners, which was just north of our farm. We spent the evening talking about our families and our girl friends. And I guess I boasted a bit too much because I told him that I had a girl named Mollie. I told him that she and I were going to get married, even though we really are just friends. I guess that’s normal. Anyway, after a full dinner we settled in for a little shut eye. Sleep didn’t come too easy that night, I was filled with nerves. When I did drift off to sleep, I had a dream, a nightmare really. I dreamed I was walking through Circleville and I went into the stable to rent a horse. Inside the stable, a man was there building something with quick, efficient hammer strikes. He looked at me and said, “This is for you.” He was a coffin maker at work, fashioning a casket from planks of pinewood. The vision was intense and I awoke immediately covered in sweat and my heart racing. I didn’t shut my eyes for the rest of the night. A sadness entered my heart right then and there, somehow I knew that this was the last night I would spend in Ohio.

We marched at dawn setting out due south toward Kentucky. The Ohio River was the Capn’s goal for the day. He hollered at us something fierce to keep marching and we sung songs to keep up the pace. A favorite of mine was “When Johnny Comes Marching Home” and I was already dreaming of the day I would be marching, no running, back up this road to my mama’s front porch. The days and nights passed in a blur as the autumn passed as the leaves fell from the giant poplar trees along the river bank.

After day upon endless day of marching we had reached the eastern part of Kentucky and had yet to meet any rebels. By December we marched along the Ohio River and reached a little town called Louisa as the snow started to fly and the days were as lean as our bodies were becoming. Each week men started to drop away just like rotten apples fall from the tree. I wanted to run away too, but as my mind would linger on the idea, my daddy’s eyes filled my soul and I knew I could never turn yellow. So I stayed.

Soon Christmas was upon us. I remember the feasts my momma used to cook! Me and daddy would go out and kill us a big wild turkey and Becky would help mamma and granny bake apple pies using the last of the fall apples. There would be fresh churned butter and honey to slather on buttermilk biscuit and just a little hard cider. Granny used to say that a little hard cider never hurt a soul. Then on Christmas Eve the whole family would go out on the hillside and cut a nice Christmas tree. We would take it in through the front door, a trophy for all to see. We would decorate it with some popcorn strings and some fancy ornaments that mamma had bought at the church bazaar. Daddy would lift Becky up to the top and she would place the tinfoil star that we had made a few years before. Oh, it was quite a wonderful time; now it’s hell. I’m so cold and hungry and I’m about as low as a snake’s belly. Each of us soldiers seem to be feeling the same way because no one feels like talking much. We sit around the fire, the coals glowing orange, each drowning in our own sorrow. Lowly, Jake starts to sing, “Silent Night” and as I listen to his husky voice I stare up at the moon and realize that my family is looking up at the same moon in Ohio.

We start our march again the next morning, trudging along the Big Sandy. The Capn told us that the 5th Kentucky Infantry will be joining us at Paintsville. Finally we met up with the Confederates at Jenny’s Creek and a minor skirmish ensued. I was scared and I really didn’t fight much, I just watched from the back and prayed that I wouldn’t have to join in. The Confederates retreated into an area near Prestonsburg; the Middle Creek Valley. And we followed. The morning of January 10 dawned cold and foggy. The fog hung low in the trees in the valley of Middle Creek that I found it hard to see my battle mates. And boy was the tension high! I knew in my heart that this very day was different. About 1 oclock Colonel James A Garfield gave the command to charge. With battle cries rising through the bitter air, we crossed the swollen creek and attacked the Confederates. Some of our men actually were fighting hand to hand with their own cousins, their very own uncles. I was naturally afraid and weak because I’m still just a kid. I had always heard that you never hear the bullet, but I heard mine. It sounded like a train, it smelled like a buttermilk biscuit and it felt like a kiss from my granny. It was the story of my life, written in an instant with a beginning, a middle; and an end. I fell, wordless and still and I knew that I would never see my mama. I would never kiss Miss Mollie, and now Kentucky was my home. I watched from above some fellas pick up my corpse and lean it up against an apple tree. Capn Davis told me that he wouldn’t let me die and he wouldn’t leave me, so I’m going to stay right here in this field until they call me home.

September 10, 2016

Photography has been my passion for the past few years. I love to study a subject, a flower or tree, and photograph it in a way to make it as beautiful as I can. I love the challenges that photography can throw at you and lately I’ve been reading and practicing on night photography. So one night I was surfing the web and I saw a photograph of the Milky Way and I started to study about night sky photography. I learned that you need a good camera with a wide lens, a tripod, a phone app to help you locate the Milky Way and most importantly - a clear, dark, moonless sky. But even though Prestonsburg is not a metropolis, it’s still hard to find a dark sky around here. I drove up to Stonecrest, but it was too bright, and Jenny Wiley was as well. Then it dawned on me to try the Middlecreek Battlefield, it might be perfectly dark and it’s close by. So one clear cloudless night Murphy and I headed out to walk the battlefield and see if we could capture the Milky Way with my camera. The fog started to gather low around the trees as we dropped down the hill into the battlefield. As we walked down the trail Murphy started to growl and I noticed his fur standing on end. I felt like someone was watching me, yet the desire to take a cool picture of the Milky Way made my feet carry on through the pine trees to the clearing. Deep into the pine trees I began to quiver and I felt like I wasn’t alone. I felt a presence, yet I wasn’t afraid. Normally I’m a pretty fearful person, I tend to startle easy. But this felt different and I felt led to whisper, “Hello?” I sat down under one of the trees and started to fill my mind with peaceful thoughts. Soon I saw a thickening of fog, it almost looked as thick as jelly. A small voice entered my mind, “I’m here, who are you?” I told the presence that my name was Kaye and that my dog was Murphy. In my mind I heard, “My name is Johnny”. I know that the words reverberated in my head only because Murphy didn’t act like he had heard a thing. Johnny started to relate to me his story. He told me that he wanders the battlefield every night, looking for his lost colonel who promised him that he wouldn’t die and that he would take him home. Johnny’s soul was so sad, and I felt the need to help him. After I listened to his story, I explained to him that the battle was a long, long time ago. He seemed to understand that his family and friends were gone and that his colonel would not be returning for him. Nevertheless, his spirit was strong in his belief that he should stay put. I never felt threatened, I don’t think Johnny is that kind of person. Or that kind of spirit, actually. Slowly I felt his spirit dwindle, then disappear. I said a prayer for Johnny and finished taking pictures of the Milky Way. I went home and thought of battle cries, and pumpkins and a young kid named Johnny from Ohio.

The following morning I awoke from a deep sleep and wondered if I dreamed the whole thing. I grabbed my camera and drove out to the battlefield as the sun appeared over the mountain fog. The battlefield was peaceful and quiet and in the distance I saw a deer eating in the pasture. I walked back to the tree that I had sat under the previous evening. And there, under that tree, sat a ripe apple.