| Frankfort, KY |
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| Editor: B General Fred Arocha Asst. Editor: Ginger Arocha |
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| Robert E. Lee once remarked that without music, there would have been no army. |
| Reporter: Ted Harris |
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| ON THE BORDER - Part 5 "Tell us all about it. Harry, girl! Quit criyin’. ‘Tain’t of no use. ‘Twon’t bring back the dead or wipe out shame from the living, else you might cry on, for there’s a heavy score of it come on our family. Let us hear the whole story. It may be condensed into a paragraph. Young Andrew Byrne had met his fate in one of the many bloody fratricidal skirmishes following the invasion of Kentucky from the South, being bayoneted in a night-surprise on the part of the loyalists. His cousin, wounded, mutilated, and a prisoner, had contrived to escape and to rejoin the Tennessee regiment which both cousins had belonged to. It was now defeated, dispersed, broken, retreating in scattering handfuls toward the border. Anticipating the arrival of one of these, Dan had hurried on to tell his doleful story, to warn his uncle of the coming danger, and to afford what protection might accrue from his presence. "They’ll be h’yar before sun-down, I reckon," he concluded. "Uncle, if you don’t want to risk the house being burned over you head, you’d better haul that flag down, if but for an hour or two." |
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| The old soldier folded his arms, knitted his brows, and smiled grimly. He was yet tremulous with suppressed grief at the tidings of his son’s death, but the prospect of immediate danger seemed to relieve him. "I’ll see them _____first!" said he, with energy sufficient to place his determination beyond the reach of entreaty or argument. "They’ve took my boy; they’ve got him killed in the wickedest cause that ever man shouldered a rifle for; now let ‘em come and receive a father’s thanks. I wish Maurice was here now." "I hearn tell of his joinin’ the abolition-the Federalists," Dan remarked. "I’m glad we didn’t have to fight agin his regiment." His uncle made no reply. He was pacing with long strides up and down the passage, nervously, expectantly. Presently he paused, and addressed Harry: "Gal," he said, "tell Pete to hitch up the old mare and wagon, and do you clear out to Brodnax’s-I reckon you’ll be safe enough thar. And you may jist tell him-" But Harry, in her turn, folded her arms with a look of resolution not inferior to that expressed in the countenance of her father. "I’m going to stop with you," she said, briefly. |
| "You’re better away; it’s no woman’s work we’ve got on hand, and I can’t be scared with the thought of what these devils may do to you, supposin’ I aren’t able to beat ‘em off, as I intend tryin’! Likely they’ll burn the shanty down, as Dan says, and you’ve got too many fair years of life before you, gal, to die like that. Go away! Take my blessing and go away, where you’ll be out of danger!" "I shall stop with you, father; I can load your rifle for you, if I can do nothing else. Don’t ask me to leave you now, for I won’t do it!" He looked into her eyes, read there her determination and love stronger than death or the fear of it, bent over and kissed her, and abruptly turned away. "You’re true grit, gal!" he murmured. "Now then, let’s git ready to receive ’em." |
| Paducah Taken...... Oct. 29, 1862 Confederate arms have returned the city of Paducah to it's rightful owners after the Union refused to surrender leave in a peaceful manner. M Gen S. Lyudkevch , commanding CSA troops offered the Union generous terms to prevent anymore blood from being shed, and in a way that the Union has known for, for some time now, false bravado replaces sound thinking and the Union was removed from control of the city. Our troops engaged in this combat did not suffer heavy loss and performed their mission in a most professional and humane manner, and MGen. Lyudkevch and his staff performed this operation demonstrating a high degree of professionalism along with keeping damage to the city to a minimum while damage to the enemy was high, and this battle should serve as a lesson th the tyrants in Washington to return what is ours and withdraw back to within their borders for good...! |
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| The Scout's Narration - Part 2 I am a dead man, thought I to myself; I am a dead man unless the cap fails. Wonderful, marvelous to relate, the cap did fail. The hammer dropped with a dull, harmless thug on the nipple. With the rapidity of thought and the stealth of a panther I glided forward and clutched his windpipe, forcing him to his knees, while the gun slipped to the ground. There was a fierce but silent struggle. The fellow could not speak for my hand on his throat; but he was a powerful man, with a bowie-knife in his belt, if he could only get at it. But I got it first, hesitated a moment, and then drove it in his midriff to the hilt; and just at that instant his grinders closed on my arm and bit to the bone. Restraining a cry with the utmost difficulty, I got in another blow, this time home, and the jaws of the rebel flew apart with a start, for my blade had pressed the spring of the casket. Breathless from the struggle, I lay still to collect my thoughts, and listened to know if the inmates of the tent had been disturbed. But no; a light was shining through the canvas, and I could hear the low murmur of voices from within, which I had before noticed, and which seemed to be those of a number of men in earnest consultation. I look at the corpse of the rebel remorsefully. The slouched hat had fallen off in the scuffle, and the pale face of the dead man was upturned to the scant moonlight. It was a young, noble, and exceedingly handsome face, and I notice that the hands and feet were small and beautifully shaped; while every thing about the body denoted it to have been the mansion of a gallant, gentle soul. Was it a fair fight? Did I attack him justly? thought I; and, in the sudden contrition of my heart, I almost knelt to the ground. But the sense of my great peril recurred to me, stifling every thing else, however worthy. I took off the dead man’s overcoat and put it on, threw my cap away and replaced it with the fallen sombrero, and then dragged the corpse behind an outhouse of the farm that stood close by. Returning, I picked up the gun, and began to saunter up and down in a very commendable way indeed; but a sharp observer might have notice a furtiveness and anxiety in the frequent glances I threw at the tent, which would not have augured well for my safety. I drew nearer and nearer to the tent at every turn, until I could almost distinguish the voice within; and presently after taking a most minute survey of the premises, I crept up to the tent, crouched down to the bottom of the trench, and listened with all my might. I could also see under the canvas. There were half a dozen rebel chieftains within, and a map was spread on a table in the centre of the apartment. At length the consultation was at an end, and the company rose to depart. I ran back to my place, and resumed the watchful saunter of the guard with as indifferent an air as possible, drawing the hat well over my eyes. |