2003 January Issue

The last Salute

An empty chair now and forevermore will sit at our table in remembrance of those that have gone before.

I received an interesting article regarding the grave monument that was erected by Steven Bowling and myself. It was published in the Licking Valley Courier. In essence it stated that the Keeton and Wolfenbarger families were honored when a gravestone was placed at the head of Pvt. Stephen Keeton’s grave (located at Deadman Road on Deadening Branch in Morgan County). He served with Kentucky’s 5^th Infantry Regiment and with the 10^th Kentucky Cavalry (also a partisan ranger unit sometimes known as Diamond’s 10^th Kentucky or the Yankee Chasers). He enlisted on March 27, 1863 into Company A, Fields’ Partisan Rangers and the age of 23. He also served with Diamond’s Company M. He was captured on November 15, 1864 and was taken to Camp Chase located in Columbus, Ohio. He was incarcerated under deplorable conditions for four months. He allegedly refused to take the oath of allegiance and was placed in Prison No. 1, known as Razorback Prison. Prisoners slept 2 to a bare bunk of wood and straw with rations of 1/2 lbs. of bread divided among 8 men, given twice a day. The hardened guards would throw their apple peels into the men in order to watch them fight over the scraps. They were forced to eat the garbage that floated through the camp whenever the water was turned loosed through the canal. He was transferred to Point City, Virginia and was exchanged on February 25, 1865. He rejoined his regiment on April 26, 1865.

Private Henry H. Caudill

The skit is ready to be presented. The old general is working with Cowan for the first presentation. Hopefully, we will be able to begin this month. The skit portrays Pvt. Caudill (played by Richard Smith, a direct descendent of Henry Caudill) returning from the battle of Leatherwood and stops at an old farmers house (played by Danny Taylor) to ask for water and a bite to eat. While resting, the two men discuss the Civil War from a unique eastern Kentucky prospective. Plans are being made to make a short film in the fall to be made available as an educational tool for schools across the state.

My Kepi & Me

The Hunley Report

At the time of this publication, we are still deliberating on requesting to be honor guards over the remains of the eight-crew members of the Hunley in the year 2003. Richard Brown will be revisiting the area soon and will report back to us an acceptable date in which we can honor those brave men of the Hunley.

Monthly Communications

We welcome our guests and give a Rebel Yell to the newest members of the proud decedents of the men who rode with the 13^th Kentucky Calvary!

Robert Lootens & Nicholas Mitchell

(Pictures from the Christmas Dinner)

Antietam

By

David Chaltas

9/17/02

At a place called Antietam

We fought for our freedom

On a fall September day.

Blue-Gray First Marylander’s sons

Were put under the gun

As one shot at another.

Grown men fell dead and adyin’.

All men were acrying’.

Brother against dear brother.

They were out in a Cornfield

Where neither side would yield

Until they made a mistake.

There was no reason for alarm

They wore the same uniform.

But was Harper Ferry’s take!

They fought along a Sunken Road

A place that, it’s been told

Where gentlemen went insane.

Each man was fully willing

To do his share of killin’

At the place called Bloody Lane.

Burnside ordered, "Take the bridge!"

But the men on the ridge

Poured down Georgia rain that kills.

As the boys in blue forded,

Their plans were aborted

By a general named Hill.

The smell of death filled the air!

Bodies’ lay everywhere

Near a creek called Antietam.

People of Sharpsburg were stunned

The war has just begun.

Two nations fought for freedom..

On the 13^th of September 2002, I found myself heading for the largest reenactment of the year. A place called Antietam where over 15,000 reenactors would portray the Civil War’s bloodiest battle. The Battle of the Cornfield started promptly at 6:00 (early hour skirmishes lit up the sky) by the most spectacular cannonade that I had ever witnessed. The smell of black powder satiated the mist and cast a dreary cloud over the field, yielding visibility to twenty paces. The exhibit of canister bursting one hundred fifty feet in the air brought a strange exuberance and raised within my soul a longing to join the battle. Tears of an inexplicable nature streamed down my smoke covered face, falling upon my Confederate uniform, as I gave thanks for the privilege of being privy to such a scene and in part, for the cover of darkness to hide from view my personal moment. It was then that I first saw them. Out of the man-made-mist came the boys in gray, eerie as any phantom riding the winds of time. The ghostly images sent chills through my being as I trembled with awe at the sight. I shakily snapped my first shot with the camera. It was then that I became cognizant that I had been presented with the perfect picture for a poem that I had not yet written but knew I must. I began writing on the pages of my mind with the sounds, sights and smells breathing ideas and by the time I returned to the confines of my quarters, I had a rough draft completed. Dear reader, the above poem and picture are my gifts to you from a time that stood still on a September day long ago in a by-gone era.

Civil War Courier