Podcast: Michael Hill on how to become Antietam guide, more

In a freewheeling Episode 24, Antietam guide Michael Hill talks with co-hosts Tom McMillan and John Banks about the ins and outs of becoming a battlefield guide, his favorite spot on the field — it's on the southern end! — and his journey from Lost Cause devotee to the present day. Plus, these three ink-stained wretches contemplate starting an "Old Men of Newspapering Podcast."

Tales from the road: 'The King' and I and a 'Harvest of Death'

Bob Kalasky explains a detail in "The Harvest of Death" image.

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On a deep-blue sky afternoon, roughly 150 yards from the Old Alms House Cemetery on the Gettysburg battlefield, I stand in a bean field with Bob Kalasky, a 60-something licensed massage therapist from Ohio and Civil War-era photographs obsessor.

“Watch out for ticks,” warns the author of Shadows Of Antietam, a well-received book on images taken in 1862 on that bloody battleground. “I hate ticks.” My gawd, will short-pants me be ravaged by those nasty, little bloodsuckers?

On this glorious day, we’re here on the Day 1 field, within site of Barlow’s Knoll and the 17th Connecticut monument, for Kalasky to persuade me that this is indeed the spot where Timothy O’Sullivan photographed United States Army dead in the aftermath of the battle. The location of (in)famous “A Harvest Of Death” photograph has eluded historians and others. Over the years, 40 locations have been identified as the spot, but none of those investigations have led to a consensus among experts.

The ghastly Gettysburg photograph known as "The Harvest of Death."
(Library of Congress)

"The King" with a blow-up of "The Harvest of Death" photo.

Kalasky — whom I fondly call “The Shadow King” or simply “The King” — is convinced we stand at the location. I consider him a friend, although our association led to brief tension/unintended hilarity with Mrs. B, who as de facto family chief financial officer oversees nearly all of my purchases topping, say, 40 bucks.

True story: Weeks after buying Kalasky’s book, Mrs. B spotted “massage” on my credit card bill. Gulp. It took all my vast powers of persuasion to convince her of the legitimacy of the purchase.

"The King" and I.

In the bean field, Kalasky comes armed with tools of his trade: a protractor, enlargements of “A Harvest Of Death” images and a vision of 1863. He points out the location of old fence lines and subtle undulations in the ground, farmer David Blocher’s wheat field long ago. “Damn, if that doesn’t all fall into line,” he says as he shows me a blowup and points to the battlefield.

“This is nuts!”

His research and interpretation of it seem good to me, but I’m no expert.

“Look at that horse’s ass,” Kalasky says of O’Sullivan’s photograph. Is it a grand clue or merely a false lead?

What we both know for certain is that we stand on hallowed ground. Union soldiers from the 11th Corps, including those from Kalasky’s Ohio, fell in this unremarkable field on July 1, 1863.

“Those poor bastards,” I say of those men.

“Oh, absolutely,” says “The King. “Absolutely.”

Kalasky traipses over the Day 1 battlefield at Gettysburg, near Barlow's Knoll. where
he believes Timothy O'Sullivan created his famous "Harvest of Death" photo.

---

LISTEN to Kalasky on our "The Antietam And Beyond Podcast."

Podcast: Antietam guide Kevin Pawlak on Final Attack, more

In Episode 23, battlefield guide Kevin Pawlak talks with co-hosts Tom McMillan and John Banks about the Antietam Institute's epic tour of the 40-Acre Cornfield and elsewhere on the southern end of the battlefield. Plus, Kevin, John and Tom begin their campaign for a Congressional Medal of Honor for 118th Pennsylvania officer Lemuel Crocker, whose heroics at the Battle of Shepherdstown — the final battle of the Maryland Campaign — should be known by all students of the Civil War. 

Pawlak, a board member of the Antietam Institute, is author of Shepherdstown in the Civil War: One Vast Confederate Hospital and other Civil War books. | Join the Antietam Institute.

Tales from the road: Peanut soup but no 'ghost cats' in Virginia

Historical marker in front of The Wayside Inn in Middletown, Va.

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What a grand overnight stay at The Wayside Inn & Larrick’s Tavern in the heart of history-rich Middletown, Va.

Quick recap: During a tour of the place by Piers — the inn’s excellent and enthusiastic communications director — he pointed out a historical marker in front of the inn that references General Nathaniel “Bobbin Boy” Banks.

Nathaniel Banks

“We are NOT related,” I announced to my fellow tour attendees, mostly from a septuagenarian motorcycle club called the Voyagers. (Banks was a lousy Civil War commander.) The bikers briefly chuckled and then looked at me the way your dog might when you blow a shrill whistle.

At dinner Thursday night at the tavern, I met two gentlemen from Europe. Here’s a complete transcript of our convo:

“Where are you from?”

“Sweden.”

“Welcome.”

Plus, I struck up a conversation with a delightful couple — shout-out to Sheri and Hugh! — from California dining at the table next to me. They offered me some of their yummy-looking peanut soup (I respectfully passed) and bought a copy of my book (A Civil Road Trip Of A Lifetime), cementing what should become an eternal friendship.

By the way, Sheri and Hugh — who told me of their deep respect for journalism — sat next to the ancient (circa 1740) and deep (45 feet) town well. (Earlier, our tour group peered into the mysterious well.)

Guests peer into the ancient well at The Wayside Inn & Larrick's Tavern.

A view of the well through Plexiglass.

Overnight, I slept in the Jubal Early Room at the reputedly haunted inn. I heard no tramping of Civil War soldiers’ boots and didn’t see those “ghost cats” that allegedly walk between Room No. 2 — the room where “Little Phil” Sheridan supposedly stayed — and Room No. 1, the “Old Jube” room. And, no, the ghost of General Early didn’t torment me with any Lost Cause musings. (I did, however, hide my wallet inside the case for my drone — you know, just in case any spirits came looking.)

Early this morning, I spied strange flashes of light dancing on my wall. (Probably should be title of my autobiography.) But I figured they were merely the nasty effects of those CBD gummies I take to sleep.

A sketch created during the war by James E. Taylor of Rebel General Jubal Early in the
room where I slept at The Wayside Inn.

Tales from the road: 'Ghost cats,' communing with Early's spirit

Piers Lamb, the excellent communication director of The Wayside Inn, conducts a tour.

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After a nine-hour drive through the rain from Nashville — including a brutal stretch on I-81 (“The Devil’s Highway”) — I finally pull into the parking lot of my accommodations at The Wayside Inn & Larrick’s Tavern in Middletown, Va. A short distance up the old Valley Pike here in the Shenandoah Valley the armies clashed during the Battle of Cedar Creek, fought Oct. 19, 1864, which just happens to be Mrs. B’s birthday (but not the same year!). 

Kyla is related to some guy
named Robert E. Lee.

Minutes after parking, I check in with a nice, young lady at the front desk named Kyla, who spills the beans on her 5x great uncle, some dude named Robert E. Lee. Never heard of him.

“His painting stares at me every day,” she says cheerfully, gesturing toward the wall in front of her.

Anywho, the next thing I know I’m standing, dazed, in front of the late 18th-century inn, where Piers — The Wayside Inn’s enthusiastic communications director — is conducting a tour for a septuagenarian motorcycle club called the Voyagers. The drone of traffic on the Valley Pike in front of the inn nearly spoils his excellent talk about the colorful history of the place.

Over the years, according to Piers, a veritable who’s who of arts, culture and finance have stayed at the Wayside Inn, including Eleanor Roosevelt, James Earl Jones, Tom Cruise and John Rockefeller Jr.

During the Civil War, officers from both sides frequented the inn and tavern, including “Little Phil” Sheridan of Battle of Cedar Creek renown. (A monument to Union Colonel Charles Russell Lowell, mortally wounded at Cedar Creek, stands in front of the Wayside Inn.)

Jubal Early

A few feet away, a motorcycle club member enjoys a huge martini, which I need about nine of following my nerve-wracking drive. Seconds later, the white-haired, martini gulping biker club member — Kim from Illinois, an inn guest — blurts: “I think ghosts rearranged the change in my room.” 

OMG! I’m staying in spacious Room No. 1, inhabited by Confederate General Jubal Early during the war. If the grumpy ghost of “Old Jube” haunts me with Lost Cause mythology or moves my change tonight, I may have to move to the Hampton lnn in Harrisonburg.

Naturally, guests in the tour group wonder about ghosts in the inn, so Piers feeds the need.

“This is one of the seven most haunted inns in Virginia,” he says.

The Wayside Inn in Middletown, Va., has welcomed guests since the late 18th century.

Piers tells us of an old telephone in one of the rooms that would never stop ringing, even after the yanking of its plug from the wall. Plus, among other ghostly experiences, guests have heard troops tramping through the inn and kitchen workers have had their aprons tugged by unknown forces. (The Mirror Room, where seances once were held, is supposedly the most haunted in the place.)

But by far the weirdest Wayside Inn story is of “ghost cats” moving from Room No. 2, where Sheridan supposedly stayed, to Room No. 1, Early’s room and — gulp! — MY ROOM.

I think this is gonna be a long, one-eye-open night.

READ MORE about The Wayside Inn & Larrick’s Tavern. 

The Jubal Early Room, where I spent a sleepless night.

Tales from the road: A vanishing act at Stones River battlefield

Stan Hutson stands on site of Day 1 fighting -- Dec. 31, 1862 -- being prepped for development.

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Whenever feeling a need for a downer, I make a beeline on the interstate from Nashville to Murfreesboro, where city planners give developers free rein to carve up hallowed ground for another strip center, apartment complex or housing development. Think of it as as the Fredericksburg, Va., of the Western Theater.

“Park over there,” my friend Stan directs Civil War travel pal/driver Jack, who once hypnotized me at dawn at Fort Granger in Franklin, Tenn. He pulls off into a gravel parking area of a construction site.

Roughly a half-mile behind us is core Stones River battlefield of the national military park, which includes the infamous Slaughter Pen. In front of us, several hundred yards from a Rooms To Go furniture store and a Whataburger, we spot construction equipment and a vast, mostly barren scene reminiscent of the surface of the moon. In the far distance stand two mountains of dirt.

“I guarantee you’d find a cannon ball or two in there,” says Stan, who hunts for relics on private property (with permission) on the battlefield in his spare time. To our right, near an earthmover, he unearthed 500 percussion caps, evidence of the intense fighting on this hallowed ground on Dec. 31, 1862 — Day 1 of the Battle of Stones River.

Going, going ... Day 1 Stones River battlefield

Every day, pitiless developers carve up more of this unheralded battlefield, where nearly 25,000 Americans became casualties over three days. In a few months, the moon-like scene before us will be occupied by more urban schlock, perhaps including Murfreesboro’s 507th McDonald’s, 52nd Circle K or 21st Wendy’s.

Only a fraction of this vast battlefield is part of the national military park. For the rest, it’s open season. History is not winning this battle. From the Whataburger parking lot, we get a Confederate soldier’s view of this vanishing battlefield.

Stan Hutson holds a battle map on the Day 3
field (Jan. 2, 1863), now a residential housing
development.

“I found a bunch of of bullets over by those Porta Potties,” Stan says, pointing roughly 20 yards away.

After lunch at Buster’s bar — Jack paid, so it tasted much better than regular grub — we venture to scene of fighting on Day 3 of the Battle of Stones River. What once a was soybean field is now being prepped for a tony residential housing development. To our left, on ground where soldiers clashed on Jan. 2, 1863, stands a mega-mansion under construction.

“Dream Acres Pool Company,” reads the sign in the front yard.

“This,” Stan says, holding a battle map, “is the heart of the Day 3 battlefield.” He speculates Confederate artillery fired from a tree line in the far distance, near Sinking Creek.

My gawd, what’s happening to the Stones River battlefield? Blink and the rest of it soon may be gone.

A McMansion on Day 3 Stones River hallowed ground

Above and below: Drone views of Day 3 Stones River battlefield.

Podcast: Antietam battle anniversary edition soldier stories

In this special 162nd battle anniversary edition of the podcast, co-hosts Tom McMillan and John Banks dive into some of their favorite soldier stories — from the United States soldier who carved his name into a window sill at the Dunker Church to four soldiers who wrote to loved ones as they lay mortally wounded on the battlefield (and others).

"7 AM at which I am wounded," one of the them, a soldier from Michigan, wrote in his journal. "This is written on the spot wherein I lay. May God bless me and forgive all my sins, through Jesus Christ."

Podcast: Antietam Institute president Chris Vincent

On Episode 21 of "The Antietam And Beyond Podcast," Antietam Institute president Chris Vincent visits with co-hosts Tom McMillan and John Banks about battlefield farmsteads, his 132nd Pennsylvania ancestor, The Final Attack Trail, the upcoming Institute fall conference and much more. Vincent and his wife, Amy, own the historic Jacob Rohrbach Inn bed & breakfast in Sharpsburg, Md. 

For information on the Antietam Institute, go here. | For information on the Jacob Rohrbach Inn, go here.

Check out new Civil War Trails marker in East Tennessee

The recently installed marker at Hayslope in Russelville, Tenn.
 

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A birdie delivered news of the recent installation of a marker in Hamblen County for the Hayslope House (352 Warrensburg Rd., Russellville), a Confederate headquarters during the winter of 1863-1864 and site of an army encampment.

Per the Hayslope web site, "In December 1863, Maj. Gen. Lafayette McLaws brooded within the walls of Hayslope, the cozy home of Theophilus Rogan and his wife Louisa, where the Confederate general made his headquarters in Russellville, Tennessee. A half mile away, at the Nenney House in downtown Russellville, his commanding officer, Lt. Gen. James Longstreet, prepared to relieve him of command, blaming him for the failure of the Siege of Knoxville. 

"Between them and around the house in the fields of the Rogan farm, weary soldiers bound their wounds and huddled under threadbare blankets, exhausted from inconclusive campaigns and a growing worry their war against the United States was doomed to failure, and that failure was coming soon. It was bitterly cold in East Tennessee, never particularly friendly toward the Confederates, and extraordinarily unkind in that brutal winter of 1863-1864."

Per my birdie, “This is the fourth Civil War Trails site in Hamblen County and is an important moment for the property owner and for the local economy.” 

Civil War Trails, Inc. directs travelers to more than 1,500 sites across six states, including my home state of Pennsylvania. Hayslope is the latest addition to the 360 sites in Tennessee.

A 19th-century image of Hayslope. (Tennessee State Library & Archives. Garden
Study Club of Nashville Collection: History of Homes and Gardens
 of Tennessee, 1936.

Check out new Civil War Trails marker at Brandy Station, Va.

Peter Morcarski, treasurer of the Brandy Station Foundation, and BSF secretary Peggy Misch
pose at the newly installed Civil War Trails market at Graffiti House.

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A little birdie revealed to me the recent installation of a new Civil War Trails marker at the Graffiti House in Brandy Station, Va. (19484 Brandy Station Road).

Per my informant, “The Graffiti House showcases what is believed to be one of the most extensive collections of Civil War-era graffiti discovered in recent decades, making it a perfect addition to the Civil War Trails program.

Wartime graffiti inside 
the house.

“If a visitor arrives at the Graffiti House after hours, the new Civil War Trails marker will be there to entice them to book a tour.”

In 2014, while en route to visit the Cedar Mountain battlefield nearby, I stopped at Graffiti House, a short distance off U.S. Route 15/29. The museum was closed, but it didn't take much convincing to gain access. A Brandy Station Foundation board member answered my call to the number on the sign on the museum door, and within 10 minutes, he arrived in his black pickup to conduct a 90-minute tour for me and a couple from Virginia.

The building has changed hands numerous times since the Civil War, serving as an antiques shop and an office for a period of time. The foundation acquired the once-derelict structure in 2002 for $98,000. Wartime graffiti was discovered during a renovation in the early '90s upon removal of wallpaper, and further investigation in 2013 revealed even more in a crawl space under stairs and what is now the first-floor bathroom. 

On a wall — not part of the original house, I believe — 21st-century descendants of of Robert E. Lee and Jeb Stuart scrawled their names.

For more on the house and Brandy Station Foundation, go here.

Graffiti left by descendants of Robert E. Lee and J.E.B. Stuart.

Podcast: Author Bob Kalasky, Antietam photo expert

On Episode 20 of "The Antietam And Beyond Podcast," Bob Kalasky, author of Shadows of Antietam, talks with co-host John Banks about his groundbreaking photographic work on the battlefield. (Co-host Tom McMillan is on vacation in Ireland.) 

Kalasky — “The Shadow King” — is a leader in a unique subset of Civil War buffs and historians: the photo nerd. Several times a year, the professional massage therapist makes a 3 1/2-hour drive from his home in Ohio to the Antietam battlefield in western Maryland to prove or disprove a photo theory. 

Buy Kalasky's book from The Kent State University Press.

Podcast: Dana Shoaf of National Museum of Civil War Medicine

In a freewheeling discussion, Dana Shoaf talks with co-hosts (and fellow Pittsburghers) Tom McMillan and John Banks about Dr. Jonathan Letterman, medical services at Antietam, Civil War ambulances and the National Museum of Civil War Medicine in Frederick, Md., where he serves as director of interpretation. Shoaf, the former editor for Civil War Times magazine (R.I.P.), lives near the South Mountain (Md.) battlefields, where he occasionally hears the boom of a reenactors' cannon.

30 seconds over Shy's Hill, a Battle of Nashville landmark

This was the left of Confederates’ line on Dec. 16, 1864, the second day of the Battle of Nashville.

Hemmed in on three sides, outnumbered Confederates suffered a massive defeat. With a little luck and a little more foresight, the United States Army could have bagged the entire John Bell Hood-led Army of Tennessee. 

This site, called Compton Hill during war, was named Shy’s Hill for Confederate Colonel William Shy, who was killed here. This area ago became a residential neighborhood, but two acres of the site are preserved. 

Read more about Shy's Hill on excellent Battle of Nashville Trust site.

Tales from the road: Cockfighting, cats and mansion exploring

Bethel Place in Columbia, Tenn.

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Saturday’s history adventure begins in the farm office of my early 80ish pal Campbell Ridley, a quasi-town historian of Columbia, Tenn., aficiando of Arby’s jamocha milkshakes and master of playful cats named Marco and Polo.

Ridley, a descendant of Confederate Brig. Gen. Gideon Pillow, has a delightful sense of humor that he deploys liberally with friends, family and assorted hangers-on. Exhibit 1: A sign that greets visitors on a wall in his farm office.

Original blue poplar floors in the mansion

“Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body,” it reads, “but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting, ‘Holy shit, what a ride!’”

I vote yes!

Over the past several years out here in Civil War history-rich Maury County, roughly 50 miles south of downtown Nashville, I have explored with Ridley the remains of Ashwood Hall, the mansion of Confederate Gen. Leonidas Polk and his brother that fire destroyed in 1874; walked gingerly through slave cabins on his daughter’s property; examined weed-choked graves at an off-the-beaten path cemetery at the base of Ginger Hill and breathed in the awesome aroma in the ancient smokehouse at Pillow’s Clifton Place plantation.

A cockfighting chair

On this fabulous afternoon, we make our way in Ridley’s truck to Bethel Place, the circa-1845 Greek Revival-style mansion of Gideon Pillow’s youngest brother, Jerome Bonaparte Pillow. Ridley’s first cousin, Eva James, has called it home for the past 60 years. She lives here with her husband, Don.

Inside, I marvel at the original walnut doors and blue poplar floors, outsized paintings of family members and massive mirrors. The 14-foot high ceilings spark a discussion of the ungodly sum it must cost to heat/cool this huge home. The place even has an elevator, added long ago by Eva James' father.

But the piece de resistance of my inside tour is a mundane piece of brown furniture in the parlor.

“This,” Ridley says, “is a cockfighting chair.”

Folks sat in the chair, flipped down the tray and placed their bets on it on the fighting fowl — an activity unfamiliar to me growing up in gritty Mount Lebanon, Pa.

Outside, I marvel at the Ionic columns — yup, they’re original, too — and the antebellum stone wall, the handiwork of Jerome Pillow’s slaves. Naturally, I send a drone up in the air to take in the Pillow era outbuildings — the kitchen, law office and smokehouse — as well as the mansion from 250-plus feet.

A drone view of Bethel Place shows (clockwise from left) the law office, smokehouse, kitchen
 and mansion.

Attached to a stone pillar, a metal ring intrigues us. Did Gideon Pillow — a goat of the Rebels’ defeat at Fort Donelson in February 1862 — tie up his horse at this spot while visiting Jerome? I wonder where the armies skirmished near Bethel Place, a few miles from the Columbia square.

Back at the farm office, Ridley HQ, my tour guide whips out his phone to show off a video of Marco and Polo scrapping like professional wrestlers.

What a great day.

Let’s keep history and catfighting — but not cockfighting — alive. 👊

Marco ... or is this Polo?

Polo ... or is this Marco?

Podcast: Antietam On The Web creator Brian Downey

On Episode 18 of "The Antietam And Beyond Podcast," Antietam On The Web creator Brian Downey talks with co-hosts John Banks and Tom McMillan about his remarkable web site on the battle. Downey's longtime labor of love features bios and roughly 2,000 photos of soldiers who fought at Antietam, a searchable database, battle maps, a blog and much more.

Podcast: Tom McMillan, John Banks on Antietam, writing

In a freewheeling Episode 17 of "The Antietam And Beyond Podcast," co-hosts and published authors John Banks and Tom McMillan talk about approaches to writing about history, Confederate Brig. Gen. Lewis Armistead at Antietam, what motivates them to return to the battlefield again and again and much more.

Tales from the road: Soaring over 'Fort Sweaty'/Fort Defiance

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The humidity was, like, a billion percent Sunday afternoon here in Middle Tennessee, so naturally I travelled roughly an hour from Nashville to Clarksville for a tattoo of Mrs. B on my forearm at Love Blood Ink (kidding) and a launching of my drone at Fort Defiance.

"Fly" Williams

Over the past year, I’ve examined impressive earthworks at Rocky Face Ridge, Ga., Petersburg, Va., Kennesaw Mountain, Ga., and points in between, so run-of-the-mill earthworks don’t float my boat. But the preserved works at Fort Defiance — built by slaves and soldiers for the Confederacy in November 1861 — sure are tall and well-preserved and may qualify for a spot on my Civil War Earthworks Power Rankings.

After parking, I made a beeline for the air-conditioned comfort of the Fort Defiance visitors center, where a sweet woman at the front desk gave me clearance for a drone takeoff. (Energized for a launching, I skipped the 18-minute movie and nice displays in the VC.)

Within minutes, I had my Ruko F11 Pro in the air, slicing through the oppressive humidity like a fireplace poker though ashes and soaring as high as 350 feet for views of the fort and Cumberland and Red rivers and Clarksville beyond. (Clarksville, by the way, is home of Austin Peay University, where one of my all-time favorite college basketball players — the legendary “Fly” Williams — averaged 29.4 points in 1972-73 but got waxed by Notre Dame in the first round of the NCAAs, 108-66. But I digress…)

Confederates abandoned the fort after soldiers commanded by U.S. Grant conquered forts Donelson and Henry upriver and wreaked havoc in the area in the winter of ‘62. But the Rebels reconquered the defenses in August 1862 before the United States Army took over the place for good the next month. The bluecoats called the place Fort Bruce.

On this muggy afternoon, someone should have rechristened it “Fort Sweaty” because I needed a change of clothes after only two 15-minute drone runs. Ugh. And we have no hot water for showers after the water heater went out Saturday.

Psst: Let’s keep my fort drone runs between us. Mrs. B is already worried the flying camera may take out a transformer in the neighborhood. And let’s keep history alive. 👊

Podcast: Antietam-Gettysburg ties with guide Larry Korczyk

On Episode 16 of "The Antietam And Beyond Podcast," Gettysburg licensed battlefield guide Larry Korczyk talks with co-hosts John Banks and Tom McMillan about the many ties between the battles at Gettysburg and Antietam. Plus, we have a brief discussion of Korczyk's real gig (think Robert DeNiro movie), talk about following in the footsteps of A.P. Hill from Harpers Ferry to Sharpsburg and much more.

Korczyk co-authored Top Ten at Gettysburg, published March 2017. Since 2002, he has reenacted with the 2nd Rhode Island Infantry Volunteers, acting as company commander. A longstanding member of the Robert E. Lee Civil War Round Table and chairman of the James I. Robertson Jr. Literary Prize for Confederate History, Korczyk shows his passion for history in each battlefield tour he gives.

Tales from the road: Civil War meets 'Civil Weird' in Virginia

"Turner Ashby" rests in his "coffin" where the real Turner Ashby lay in 1862.

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So en route to Nashville last April, I passed through the Shenandoah Valley on I-81 — “The Devil’s Highway” and a route that seems like a magnet for every tailgater and ornery driver in the United States. 

Along the way, I made a pit stop in tiny Port Republic, Va., to score a “witness tree pen” and a tour from my friend Aaron of the Frank Kemper house, where the body of Confederate cavalry commander Turner Ashby lay in late-spring 1862.

As some of you may recall from this space, a couple years ago Aaron quit his gig as a cop to mow battlefields. The man sure has a passion for the Civil War.

The folks in this "kinda creepy" image
 stare at the faux Turner Ashby
in a coffin.

Anywho, I vowed to get one of those “witness pens” after learning about them several years ago from a local man who makes fabulous BBQ chicken at the Port Republic convenience store. The wood for the pens came from a white oak under which Stonewall Jackson supposedly prayed during a Sunday service in mid-June 1862. 

In 2011, locals had the pens made from “Jackson Prayer Tree” trimmings. (The tree had toppled in a windstorm.) 

After scoring pens — plural — from Aaron, he showed me inside the Kemper house, the home for a first-floor museum that includes artillery shells, swords and guns — all stuff Mrs. B will never let in our own house. 

The place also includes one of the stranger Civil War displays you’ll ever see: a coffin with a life-sized, post-mortem image in the opening of the 34-year-old Ashby — “The Black Knight of the Confederacy” — who had been killed at a skirmish near Harrisonburg (Va.) on June 6, 1862. 

Locals and Confederate soldiers paid respects to the real Ashby at this very house. Jackson himself was among the mourners. The faux coffin rests on the same spot where Ashby’s body once lay.

In the window above it is a bizarre, modern image of a woman, boy and a Confederate soldier staring intently at the photo of Ashby in the coffin. 

“It’s kinda creepy,” Aaron admitted. 

You’re telling me.

Side notes: Country ham sandwiches from the Port Republic convenience store sure are salty. Aaron told me he recently got a 96-inch mower to replace the 48-inch mower, making battlefield mowing a breeze. 

The Frank Kemper house in Port Republic, Va.

---

For more stories like this, get a copy of my book, A Civil War Road Trip Of A Lifetime. Email me at jbankstx@comcast.net for details.

Tales from the road: A brief visit with son of a Civil War soldier

Bill Pool, a World War II veteran, with admirers at the Cherry Blossom Festival in Marshfield, Mo.

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Truth be told, Mrs. B and I are smitten with small-town festivals.

Over the course of our 32-year marriage, we’ve ogled “The World’s Largest MoonPie” at the MoonPie festival in blistering-hot Bell Buckle, Tenn., listened to fiddlers at the sweltering Smithville (Tenn.) Jamboree and met the actor who played Chip in the old “My Three Sons” TV series at the Cherry Blossom Festival in Marshfield, Mo., where they have, like, 100 churches per square mile.

(Please note: We've also attended a hot chicken festival in Nashville, but it's no longer a small town.)

In late April at the Cherry Blossom Festival, following a chance meeting with the daughters of Bill Virdon — the former Pittsburgh Pirates star outfielder and manager — the festival director pointed me to a room in a church that served as a festival HQ.

Bill Pool (bottom right)
 stands by his father, Charles,
 a Civil War veteran.

“You need to meet Bill,” he said.

“Bill” is William Pool, 99, a World War II veteran of the Battle of the Bulge and reportedly the son of a Civil War veteran. He sat in a wheelchair, mostly enjoying the attention from festival attendees, some of whom got his autograph. He’ll turn 100 in January.

Bill’s father, Charles Parker Pool — born in 1844 — served with the Sixth West Virginia during the Civil War. Now math was never my strong suit while attending Julia Ward Howe Elementary in suburban Pittsburgh, but I think that would make Charles 80 when Bill was born.

While she attended grade school, Bill’s daughter, Carolyn, delighted telling the teacher of her grandfather’s Civil War service.

“And the teacher would go, ‘Now honey. There is no way that your grandfather served in the Civil War,’ “ she recently told a reporter. “And I tried to tell them, ‘Yes, he did.’”

The "only son of a Civil War soldier still alive," reads the headline on that story.

Of course, I subscribe to this old journalism maxim: “If your mother tells you she loves you, get another source.” So I must do more digging on this story. 

In the meantime, READ MORE.

Listen up: One-stop shop for 'The Antietam and Beyond Podcast'

Podcast: Dennis Frye, Troy Cool on their Antietam properties

In Episode 15 of "The Antietam And Beyond Podcast," renowned Antietam historian Dennis Frye and Troy Cool talk with podcast co-host John Banks about their historic properties near the Antietam battlefield. (Podcast co-host Tom McMillan is on vacation.)

Frye's house served as Ambrose Burnside's headquarters in the battle's aftermath, and in early October 1862, President Lincoln visited the general there.

Cool and his wife, Emily, live in a historic house on a farm that served as a major hospital site for the Union Army's Ninth Corps. On Sept. 15, 1862, two days before the battle, the Ninth Corps bivouacked on the property.

Tales from the road: A visit to site of a Rebel gunpowder mill

A couple takes a selfie with kids at the confluence of Duck and Little Duck rivers. Alas, they
didn’t know of the site of the Confederate gunpowder works.

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After a wonderful bike ride through the wilds of Middle Tennessee, I did what many (bored) Americans do on a beautiful Saturday: traveled an hour from Nashville to Manchester, Tenn., in search of the site of Confederate gunpowder works deep in the woods near the fork of the Duck and Little Duck rivers. 😆

Blame historian/military books publisher Ted Savas for this historical/hysterical diversion. Weeks ago, at his excellent talk at the Franklin (Tenn.) Civil War Round Table, he mentioned two mills near Nashville that (barely) supplied the Confederacy with gunpowder early in the war — one along Sycamore Creek and another in Manchester.

And so I vowed to visit the sites.

“I am thinking you got a small but nasty virus triggered by exposure to gunpowder history,” Savas wrote me in an email a week or so before my drive to Manchester.

Why, of course, I found a Civil War Trails marker for the Manchester Powder Mill.

Seconds after my arrival at Old Stone Fork State Archaeological Park in Manchester, I discovered (naturally) a Civil War Trails marker about the gunpowder works. Then I made my way past a man showing off animal pelts over to the Old Stone Fort museum, where I peppered a bemused docent with questions about the gunpowder works.

“Where can I find the remains?” I said almost breathlessly.

“Well, there’s not much left.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, pal,” I said under my breath.

Then he handed me a map of the Old Stone Fort (built hundreds of years ago by Native Americans) and drew a line on a map to the site of the powder mill. It’s about a 3/4-mile walk through the woods.

Native American mound at the ancient fort by the Duck River.

Remains of a paper mill on the path toward the gunpowder mill site.

And so like a sweaty jackrabbit on an adrenaline rush, I bounded through the woods on a hot afternoon — staggering over exposed tree roots and past sunbathers, Duck splashers, fishermen, panting dogs with their masters, steep cliffs, ancient Native American fort mounds and the ruins of a paper mill — to the confluence of Duck and Little Duck, supposed site of the Confederate powder works.

Map on historical marker denotes
buildings for gunpowder mill.

Did Shelby Foote ever do this?

About 25 yards from the Duck, a historical marker includes a hard-to-read map of powder mill buildings (I lost track at seven), so I figured the remains must be SOMEWHERE in the woods.

“I’m here to find the powder works,” I asked a couple taking a selfie with their kids in the water at the confluence of the Duck and Little Duck. “Have you seen anything?”

They looked at me the way your dog does when it hears a high-pitched sound.

Alas, I found no powder mill foundation stones, but a ditch near the Duck looks suspiciously like the mill race for the Confederate gunpowder complex. So I’m sticking with that.

I sure hope there’s a cure for this gunpowder virus.

Let’s keep history alive. 👊

Is this the mill race along the Duck River for the gunpowder mill?