The Civil War Short Story - Part 4 of 4

The Civil War Short Story

Part 4 of 4

The following excerpt is from Part III of the forthcoming Short Story Collection:

“American Centennial at the Homeplace: The Founding (1833-1876)”

The "Civil War Short Story" is considered by the author as the Feature Presentation of the book.

Statue of a Civil War Soldier at Gettysburg

Source: Freeimages.com user smithwil

http://www.freeimages.com/photo/815009

The Civil War Short Story - Part 4 of 4:

As that summer of 1865 moved along we worked together and separately on the various jobs we felt needed done, in order, based on the weather, our projected needs and individual interests in moving back toward normalcy - if there ever again would be such a thing. From the beginning, we agreed to each keep our rifles within reach and to be constantly on alert for raiders, outlaws or strangers coming into the valley.

It turned out we did have two incidents of note. One occurred in July and and the other in the middle of August. I remember that the first occurred about a week after we paused in our work to celebrate Independence Day. On that occasion, among us we had actually talked at length about how “lucky” we had been not to have any raiders, but, we also reminded ourselves to remain alert. And, by being alert, we spotted the group of about ten horsemen entering the valley, along the river, from the southeast before they saw that we were here. We all converged, as we had planned, just north of a little ridge on the west side of Oak Creek, just south of the McDonald land. As the horsemen were beginning to come up that ridge from the south, we all emerged, spaced out, rifles at the ready, like a well-drilled military squad, to challenge their approach. Whatever their original intent, they were not expecting what they found. They claimed to be ranchers from the Jack’s Fork area scouting for unclaimed cattle. We all knew better, but as long as they were willing to turn around and return the way they came, no one challenged their assertion. We were even more vigilant for the next couple of weeks, but no further  incidents occurred at that time.

I’ll never forget the mid-August incident, because it was the one and only time I was actually shot at. That is something you do not forget. This time, we didn’t spot the eight riders quite as early, and only three of us got to the ridge in time to confront them. Without sufficient numbers we did not intimidate them, and they decided to challenge us by drawing pistols and firing at us almost immediately, without more than a few words exchanged. Lewis, Daniel and I were the three on the ridge. Each of them had seen combat, so were well prepared, hit the dirt and came up firing. I did hit the dirt, effectively, and the shot in my direction flew over my head. Since I was not combat trained, they had told me to just stay down and assess my situation before moving. In those couple of seconds, thankfully, David and Liam, both also combat veterans, emerged over the hill to our left. All four of our veteran’s were firing at the invaders, who decided the odds had changed significantly, wheeled around, and headed back south. We were pretty sure that four or five of them actually were hit, but they all stayed in their saddles as they hightailed it out of our valley. We kept on high alert, again, for the next couple of weeks, by never had another encounter. 

Early in the fall, the outdoor saw mill at the mill was producing lumber three days a week and the grist mill was operating on a small scale three days a week with a workable temporary shelter. Pairs of the men made several trips to Houston to the west and Salem to the north for more supplies and occasional replacement parts for the mill and other operations. 

By late in the fall when cold weather really set in, collectively, we had three houses constructed. One was over west by the old Patton Blacksmith Shop. My sister, Caroline, had arrived to join her husband, Lewis Truesdale (Lewis was your mother Jane’s brother, of course; both children of Hugh Truesdale and Victoria Patton). Lewis and Jane’s grandfather, Colonel Jake Patton, though 67 years old, had decided it was critical to the valley and his family to return, reestablish political relationships, if possible, sufficient to assure continued title to the respective properties in the valley. From the time of his arrival, Colonel Patton made regular trips south to participate in county government representing this part of the county. While in the valley, he lived in the house with Lewis and Caroline.

The second house was built near the Baldridge mill. David Baldridge and Liam Olson lived there, initially. Liam had hoped to bring his family before the winter season arrived, but then decided it would be best to wait until spring. A few other woman and children had arrived as well as two additional families who resettled in the western valley.

Along with your father, Daniel, GranPa Henry and I occupied the third house which was at the McDonald farmstead. Before long your mother, Jane, also arrived with you, William, and joined us there.

The End

The Civil War Short Story - Part 3 of 4

The Civil War Short Story

Part 3 of 4

The following excerpt is from Part III of the forthcoming Short Story Collection:

“American Centennial at the Homeplace: The Founding (1833-1876)”

The "Civil War Short Story" is considered by the author as the Feature Presentation of the book.

Statue of a Civil War Soldier at Gettysburg

Source: Freeimages.com user smithwil

http://www.freeimages.com/photo/815009

[To start with Part 1]

The Civil War Short Story - Part 3 of 4:

We did have some of our books in the caves and we did keep up a calendar. So we knew it was on November 10, 1863, when we spotted a small company of Union soldiers on horseback coming through our valley. They made camp in the bend of Oak Creek. GrandPa Henry decided this was the time to make contact with them and find out a little more about the outside world. It had been many weeks since anyone had entered our valley.

There were 18 men, men and horses, camped that night along the Creek. GranPa had me stay back, in cover, and he approached the camp carefully, making himself known without being shot on sight by the pickets that had been set up. He presented himself as a hermit and hunter just passing through the area himself; he was about 62 years old, at the time. He did tell the young Lieutenant in charge that he had known a Colonel Jake Patton who had once lived in this valley, when he had passed through before. He said he believed the Colonel was now in the St. Louis area. He asked the Lieutenant to pass along a note to Colonel Patton that they had seen him. He used his own name.

They told him the war was still going on and they were clearing the area of southern sympathizing guerrillas and outlaws. They questioned him extensively, of course, but he seemed to give them answers they were willing to accept and did not detain him. 

With that encounter, we continued our efforts to make our life as workable as possible for another potentially hard winter. By that time, the harvesting was done from what we had planted but there were still wild elements (nuts, berry, etc.) and the fruit in the orchards that could be collected. We continued to do that along with our regular hunting efforts. Deer and turkey, in particular, continued to be plentiful. We each used bow and arrow quite effectively, along with traps and snares, and occasionally, spears.

We followed the same processes in 1864. It seemed there were fewer raiding parties during the year and only two or three identifiable sets of troops going through. We did not make contact with them, assuming we would get the same response as before.

It was not until May of 1865 when your father, Daniel McDonald, and my brother-in-law (your uncle), Lewis Truesdale, appeared in the valley, coming from the north, on horseback, each leading two pack mules. 

We were very happy to greet them and to receive the news that, officially at least, the war was over. We were sure there would still be some raiders and outlaws, but we would deal with that as needed. It was wonderful to hear news of family. We had been so isolated for so long. We first heard that Lewis and Caroline had married. We heard of you, William, being born in the prior year. Many of our family and friends from the valley had been able to stay close, or in touch, and we enjoyed hearing of each of them.

On the pack mules, they brought some harness and more seed to plant along with other supplies. They also brought a couple of extra rifles and ammunition, which were certainly great to see. 

We wasted little time in locating the old plow and other useful items and identifying the best field to plow and plant first. We had already planted all the seed we had saved from the prior year, so it was important to put our best efforts, so long as weather permitted, to get some good crops in for this year. We hoped and assumed that more family and friends would return yet that year, and certainly the following year. We were a bit optimistic on this, but better that than not to be prepared for them. They said they believed David Baldridge was only a couple of weeks behind them, and hoped to get both the saw mill and the grist mill back in operation by fall, at least at a modest level.

Actually, David Baldridge arrived in about ten days. He was accompanied by Liam Olson and, again, they each also had two mules loaded with supplies. Liam’s parents, Owen and Anna, had been in the valley nearly as long as the four original families. Liam, like his father before him, had learned the blacksmithing trade from his father and Jake Patton and was learning to be a successful farmer, as well. We learned that he had enlisted in the Union army and had served as a farrier, caring for the horses. He was also among the first released when the war ended, because the need for his services diminished quickly. Along with many others, he was anxious to attempt to re-establish his position in the valley so his family could return, as well. He and David knew their skills would be very useful to others as well as themselves in meeting these goals.

By the way, with the end of the war, horses and mules were available at relatively cheap prices, accounting for their numbers among these early arrivals. It didn’t take us very long to get back into the habit of using the animals regularly.

I was, of course, a bit surprised that my father was not among the first to come back. However, after talking to the men, they said he wanted to come but, in order of priorities, 1) he had the best current job, 2) he had the responsibilities of an extended family, and 3) the younger men were better equipped to make the long ride on horseback more quickly. In fact, of course, it turned out that he had successfully established a freight company that was growing and continued to grow during the post war era. My younger sisters and mother were very happy and didn’t really want to return to the rural area, and so they never did, as you know. This was among the reasons the growth of the revived valley was much slower than many of us had expected. It took many years to rebuild, and, to my best understanding, we have not yet, more than ten years later, matched the levels of activity we had achieved prior to the war. 

To be continued... next Friday...

The Civil War Short Story - Part 2 of 4

The Civil War Short Story

Part 2 of 4

The following excerpt is from Part III of the forthcoming Short Story Collection:

“American Centennial at the Homeplace: The Founding (1833-1876)”

The "Civil War Short Story" is considered by the author as the Feature Presentation of the book.

Statue of a Civil War Soldier at Gettysburg

Source: Freeimages.com user smithwil

http://www.freeimages.com/photo/815009

The Civil War Short Story - Part 2 of 4:     [If you haven't read Part I, go here]

McDonald men were not typically physically large and strong like the Truesdale men were. I was even small for a McDonald, and, I was already using reading glasses when I was 12 years old. I loved to read, and strained my eyes a lot. 

Once I remember, during that time, I was 12 or 13, and a bunch of rebels came through on horseback. They were ‘recruiting’ and looking for any boys or men-folk left in the countryside. When they approached me, I convinced them I was ‘blind as a bat’ and would be more nuisance than I was worth. When that worked once, I used it a couple more times, when the occasion arose. I wasn’t really neutral on the war, I just wanted to be left alone on our farm. If I’d gone off with any of them, I knew I would be dead in weeks, if not sooner, so it really shouldn’t have mattered to them. Fortunately, it worked out ok, in the long run.

Colonel Jake Patton was our blacksmith, and his wife, Kate, she ran the General Store over west of the Homeplace. With his political connections up north and over in St. Louis, he got an Army commission and helped raise troops for the Union Army. Kate and their daughter, Victoria Truesdale, held out as long as they could here. But then, a bunch of raiders came through and burned his shop and the General Store building. Escaping with their lives, they immediately left for the north to join Victoria’s husband, Hugh. Hugh had left earlier with his mules and the Patton horses to become a private contractor and consultant for the army.

Here in the valley we began hoarding part of our crops and other valuables up in the caves above Oak Creek. We even hid some of our equipment, like the plow, hoes and such, in one of the caves. GranPa knew where they could be hidden, and I began helping him a lot. He taught me how to stay out of sight and how to keep the entrances to the caves covered and not be noticeable. He also taught me how to do things like they had back in the mid-30s when they had first settled this valley. I was small, but I was wiry and became much stronger as he depended more on me. By the time ma and pa and the girls decided they had to leave, GranPa Henry and I talked them all into letting us stay behind, to ‘look after the property.’ 

Cousin David Baldridge, his family had the mill, stayed on as long as he could, but when another bunch of raiders finally burned the mill, he left too, and signed up with the Union forces. 

So, through the fall of 1862, GranPa Henry and I harvested what we could from the fields that had been planted in the spring and hoarded at lot of if, but left enough out in the open and in the cribs that were left so that raiders thought they were getting ‘everything’ we had left. The raiders were rarely ever the same people, so that helped fool them. Sometimes we would recognize who they were but most of the time, especially later on, we just disappeared and let them take what they wanted. 

We survived the winter of 62-63 living in the caves. All our houses had been burned by then. GranPa Henry and I had learned to hunt and fish in the old ways, and we got by surprisingly well.  

In the spring of 1863, of course, we didn’t know what to expect except that things would probably be much the same. And, they were. We stayed out of sight, pretty much stayed out of the valley where the raiders would pass through if there were any. We hunted mostly in the woods, up on the ridge. As it was time for planting, we had saved seed so we set about locating ‘out-of the way’ places we could plant, that would not likely come to the attention of the raiders. We used the old pioneer method of putting a fish in the hill with the seeds and putting the seeds in easy to dig spots, not putting them in rows. That way, they fit in nicely with their surroundings. We knew where they were. We would be harvesting them, individually, by hand, with no animals or wagons, so it really didn’t make any difference where they were. We also harvested what we could from the orchards around the valley. Looking back, in a way, since we did survive, it was kind of fun.

It had come down to just the two of us, as you can tell. The whole year of 1863 this valley was desolated and slowly returning to nature. Before the war there had been 25 or 30 houses plus a number of barns, cribs and other out buildings. By the fall, if you came through the valley, you would hardly have known any settlement had existed there. In a way, I suppose, we were kind of hoping it was that way. Wildlife continued to be available for hunting, but sign of bear and mountain lion also increased, so we lived the way that GranPa had lived in this place in those first years, about thirty years earlier.

To be continued...  to Part 3 ...

The Civil War Short Story - Part 1 of 4

The Civil War Short Story

Part 1 of 4

The following excerpt is from Part III of the forthcoming Short Story Collection:

“American Centennial at the Homeplace: The Founding (1833-1876)”

The "Civil War Short Story" is considered by the author as the Feature Presentation of the book.

Statue of a Civil War Soldier at Gettysburg

Source: Freeimages.com user smithwil

http://www.freeimages.com/photo/815009

The Civil War Short Story - Part 1 of 4:

[This short story was first published by William Leverne Smith as “My Home Town During the Civil War,” in Echoes of the Ozarks,, Volume Nine, An Anthologyy Publication of the Ozarks Writer’s League, November 2013, p. 9-19.]

Alex McDonald on “Saving the Homeplace” during the Civil War

My name is William McDonald and I am writing this story as it is being told to me by my cousin, Alex McDonald, for our American Centennial project at my school. He is also one of my teachers. He has asked me to write the story as he tells it to me. This year is 1876 and Alex has finally agreed to talk to me about what happened during the Civil War years here on our McDonald Homeplace, and the surrounding valley, in northwest Shannon County, Missouri. I was not born until 1864, so much of this happened before I was born.

We will start in 1861 when Alex was about 12 years old like I am now. This is what Alex told me:

In the late spring of my twelfth year, the great Civil War was begun in the United States. Abraham Lincoln was elected President of the United States and the south seceded.  Southern interests fired on the Federal installation in Fort Sumpter, South Carolina and the war began. Here in the Ozark hills of southern Missouri, we were caught right in the middle of the conflict. Folks to the south and southeast of us were for the south and hated Lincoln. Folks to the west and north of us were mostly sympathetic to the Union and supported LIncoln.

Even our family was split. My earliest actual Civil War-related memory, and I can now only assume it was true because it is still so vivid in my mind, was of my two older brothers screaming at each other, out in the yard:

"Lincoln is a dictator! He is the Devil!" Patrick could not control himself. He whacked Thomas on the shoulder. "How could you even think of joining the Union Army! Traitor!" 

Patrick was only 14, while Thomas was 16. Patrick had become friends with some other fellows his age and a little older that lived just to the south of us, and they all became Rebels, including Patrick. My mother and father tried to get him to change his mind. But, one day shortly thereafter, he just took off with those friends and we never saw or heard from him again.

Then, my brother Thomas, likewise, when the word came down that the Union army was recruiting up in Houston, he packed his knapsack and set off on foot to sign up. He was killed at Shiloh along with thousands of others on both sides.

My older sister, Caroline, was planning to marry Lewis Truesdale, but the war interrupted those plans. Lewis did join the Union army as well, and survived. When things really got bad here, she left with my pa and ma, Harry and Sarah, and my younger sisters, Mahala and Rebecca, and went to live near Jefferson City. Your mother, Jane Truesdale, joined them when your father, Daniel, left along with Lewis to the Union army. Jane lived with her Truesdale grandparents who had moved there several years earlier. Lewis and Daniel each ended up spending most of the war stationed in the central Missouri area, so that worked out well, for them. And for you, too, I suppose, since they got married and you were born during this time.

My GranPa Henry and I continued to stay here. These decisions were made over a period of time, of course, as local circumstances changed. No one but the boys signing up for the armies made those decisions quickly.

During the rest of 1861 and most of 1862, we did our best to do some farming and keep food on the table, but it became a real struggle. As time passed, everyone left here in the valley did what they could. We cut back on the size of our crops so we could handle them successfully. We all worked together, but it got harder and harder to survive. We could get few outside supplies - there just were not any available. From time to time, small groups of soldiers, or outlaws... mostly saying they were for the rebels... it was often hard to tell which they were... came through the valley. They almost always did some damage to property and occasionally people were actually killed. From time to time, houses, barns, shops and other buildings were burned. The raiders always took something with them that they ‘needed’ - whether it was food, clothing or mules or whatever they saw that they wanted and could carry away.

To be continued... next Friday... [Go there, now]