Yeah, I had fun.
This was the most elaborate event we have yet attempted at the Boonesfield site.
Friday night began with the Federals not yet occupying the town and a number of "irregulars" hanging about. I was not particularly comfortable with their presence, especially as one none-to-bright but heavily armed fellow seemed to take a particular interest in me and my belongings. My character is no Lincolnite, but I found myself looking forward to the arrival of the Federals if for no other reason than the restoration of respect for the rule of law. My naiveity was considerable!!
The Federals arrived Saturday morning and quickly rounded up the populace of Gray Summit and herded them in to a temporary hold yard. The women were soon relesed and ordered to their homes but the men continued their durance vile for another couple of hours. Finally we were herded into the grist mill where the real hard time got started. Thank goodness I had carried my banjo with me into captivity for it gave me something to occupy my mind and my hands. It was past 2 o'clock before I was finally led off to my interrogation, and almost 3 before I finally tasted the sweet nectar of freedom again. Needless to say my enthsiasm for the boys in blue was dampened.
Things gradually got back on an even keel, although my living quarters had been taken over by our "liberators." We managed to cheer ourselves with entertainment and dancing in the evening, and no one went hungry as the fare at Captain Smith's Inn was delicious.
Sunday morning brought our happy times to a swift and violent end. Our pastor made a somewhat ill-advised reference to a prayer given by Mr. Jefferson Davis, and the Federal troops replyed in a cruel fashion. He was led out behind the grist mill and shot.
The Federals decamped soon after this and left our town. The ruffians immediately reappeared, in a rather darker mood than when we had seen them last. The men of the town were once again herded in to grist mill, and after releasing the Sherriff and a vagabond, they informed us we were to be shot. The ruffian leader allowed me and my compatriot to sing one last song before "paroling us." We completed 2 verses of "Few Days" which seemed not to be of his liking for the end came soon after.
This was the most elaborate event we have yet attempted at the Boonesfield site.
Friday night began with the Federals not yet occupying the town and a number of "irregulars" hanging about. I was not particularly comfortable with their presence, especially as one none-to-bright but heavily armed fellow seemed to take a particular interest in me and my belongings. My character is no Lincolnite, but I found myself looking forward to the arrival of the Federals if for no other reason than the restoration of respect for the rule of law. My naiveity was considerable!!
The Federals arrived Saturday morning and quickly rounded up the populace of Gray Summit and herded them in to a temporary hold yard. The women were soon relesed and ordered to their homes but the men continued their durance vile for another couple of hours. Finally we were herded into the grist mill where the real hard time got started. Thank goodness I had carried my banjo with me into captivity for it gave me something to occupy my mind and my hands. It was past 2 o'clock before I was finally led off to my interrogation, and almost 3 before I finally tasted the sweet nectar of freedom again. Needless to say my enthsiasm for the boys in blue was dampened.
Things gradually got back on an even keel, although my living quarters had been taken over by our "liberators." We managed to cheer ourselves with entertainment and dancing in the evening, and no one went hungry as the fare at Captain Smith's Inn was delicious.
Sunday morning brought our happy times to a swift and violent end. Our pastor made a somewhat ill-advised reference to a prayer given by Mr. Jefferson Davis, and the Federal troops replyed in a cruel fashion. He was led out behind the grist mill and shot.
The Federals decamped soon after this and left our town. The ruffians immediately reappeared, in a rather darker mood than when we had seen them last. The men of the town were once again herded in to grist mill, and after releasing the Sherriff and a vagabond, they informed us we were to be shot. The ruffian leader allowed me and my compatriot to sing one last song before "paroling us." We completed 2 verses of "Few Days" which seemed not to be of his liking for the end came soon after.
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