Ubiquitous Serendipity

I love history and geography almost as much as I like collecting pet peeves. Anyone who knows me beyond a casual acquaintance will affirm this to be true. After years of observation and study, I have formed the unshakable opinion that these two subjects are complimentary and supplementary in much the same way that math graces science, or mornings go with coffee. An integral part of my pastime of studying history has been to travel to those places where history occurred. This is particularly true with respect to the American Civil War. While I have not visited all major battlefields of that war, I certainly have visited most. During the spring of 2008, fresh from accepting a severance package from a former employer that left me unemployed yet possessing a stream of income, I realized a long held dream of touring most of the Civil War cites in the eastern theater in a marathon ten day camping trip. I started at Gettysburg, and proceeded on to Antietam, Harpers Ferry, Fredericksburg, Spotsylvania, Chancellorsville, the Wilderness, Guinea Station, Richmond, Cold Harbor, Gains Mill, Glendale, Malvern Hill, City Point, Petersburg, Five Forks, Saylors Creek, and Appomattox (I left out Manassas because of limited time and I have been there before). This trip included so many fascinating adventures that I could fill a book with them, and perhaps one day I will. Along the way I made a new friend.

My third day on the road found me standing alongside the old Hagerstown Pike on the south west corner of Miller corn field at Antietam National Battlefield Park. Anyone familiar with the events of 17 September 1862 will recognize that this infamous cornfield is one of the most hotly contested and bloody spots anywhere on the North American continent. Immediately next to the old turnpike (which is now a drive through the park; the highway has now been rerouted) stands an elaborate monument dedicated to an Indiana regiment that fought there at Sharpsburg Maryland. I was by the monument as a soft rain began to drizzle down, cursing the fact that the batteries in my GPS were beginning to fail. My self-appointed mission that day was to photograph and collect GPS data for as many of the monuments at Antietam as I could (by the end of the day I had completed this task for about 75 of the 80 or so monuments in the park), but with dying batteries and the prospect of a downpour, I wasn’t anticipating a successful outcome for that day’s work. I was in an increasingly sour mood because of this.

The fields around had been entirely empty that Thursday mid-morning, but suddenly I noticed a middle aged man with a baseball cap walking up to greet me. He hailed me by observing that I looked like I was “really into this stuff”, and then pointed out to me a trail a few hundred yards down the road where a person could hike into the center of the Corn Field and get a really good view of Nicodemus Heights from whence artillery had shelled the position all day long. “You mean Hooker’s artillery?” I inquired thinking he was referring to the Union corps commander who had commenced the battle. “Oh no, that’s where Stuart’s horse artillery was stationed” he replied with a grin. I was embarrassed. Since I fancied myself a historian, I should have known that he was referring to Confederate artillery belonging to JEB Stuart rather than union batteries. My sour mood soured a bit more in annoyance with myself. But my visitor didn’t seem to notice. He continued with friendly banter about the events of the battle for a moment or two, and then introduced himself as Ken.

Since we shared a common interest in Civil War history, and because the causes of my annoyance had nothing to do with him, I consciously changed my attitude and struck up a friendly conversation with him there in the light rain. Ken obviously had a detailed if not encyclopedic knowledge of the Civil War, and he was so enthusiastically gregarious that I immediately took a liking to him. He explained that he was also on a tour similar to mine; to visit several battlefields for a few days before returning to his home in central Ohio. I remarked that my home in Lexington was just a little over two hours driving time from his. Next he worked on proselytizing me to join the Civil War Preservation Trust; an organization dedicated to protecting Civil War sites from modern development. Since I was unemployed, I was not immediately convinced I should make any serious commitments to a non-profit organization while standing by the road next to a corn field, so I was politely non-committal. After a few moments we parted ways. I explained I had to drive back into Sharpsburg to buy some batteries, and Ken stating that he was meeting a licensed battlefield guide for a tour of the southern end of the park.

My circuit of the park generally progressed from north to south in much the same way that the battle of Antietam itself raged like a burning fuse from north to south during twelve hours of fighting. By the middle of the afternoon, I had made my way to the heights overlooking the Rohrbach Bridge over Antietam Creek where General Burnside wasted so much time and so many troop’s lives in a frustrated attempt to force the Georgian defenders to flee (later this was renamed "Burnside's Bridge"). I planned on hiking the Snavely Ford Trail, which is where Burnside would have crossed the creek if he had had any sense at the outset. As I made my return to the parking lot, hot and sweaty from the hike under now sunny skies, I encountered Ken once more accompanied by his guide. Naturally I stopped to chat again.

The guide pointed out an interesting monument nearby dedicated to the memory of assassinated president William McKinley. Soon after his murder in Buffalo New York, this monument was erected to give notice to the military service of the martyred president. However, the guide pointed out that closer scrutiny of the text on the monument discloses that McKinley’s military service at Antietam was as a quartermaster sergeant and included fetching pots of coffee back to the troops where were actually busy in combat. We all chuckled a bit over the late president’s intrepid exploits, and then Ken started once again to convince me of the advantages of joining the Civil War Preservation Trust. I smiled and assured him I would give his suggestion serious consideration, and this time I asked for his address information so I could contact him again later.

The next day I spent exploring the town of Harpers Ferry West Virginia, and hiking a short segment of the Appalachian Trail. Perhaps I will relate the details of this adventure in a later blog.

After Harpers Ferry I proceeded next to Fredericksburg Virginia where I planned on camping for two days. This scenic and historic piece of land along the Rappahannock River is another of those hotly contested pieces of ground of which I spoke earlier. In Spotsylvania and adjacent Orange Counties, no less than four major Civil War battles were fought, in addition to dozens and perhaps even hundreds of minor scrimmages. The contending armies of the Potomac and Northern Virginia occupied this ground for nearly two years.

My first stop was to be the National Parks visitors’ center located at the base of Marye’s Heights in Fredericksburg. I had many stops planned for that day, so I arrived early in the morning as the center opened. As I strolled up the sidewalk toward the front door, I was amazed and pleased to see Ken walking toward me on the sidewalk. “Man! You are everywhere!” I said as I shook his hand. He explained that today he was part of a tour group exploring Fredericksburg, along many of the same areas that I was planning to visit myself. Once again he put in a plug for the Civil War Preservation Trust, and this time I relented and agreed that I would make sending them a check my first order of business upon my return home. I saw Ken several more times later that day, mostly from a distance as his group and I explored the Confederate defensive line along the base of the ridge.

I didn’t see Ken again during the balance of my trip, but I did correspond with him by mail and by email after my return to Lexington. One day, I received an invitation from Ken. He was organizing another tour of Civil War battlefields, this time near my home in central Kentucky. He graciously invited me to join him as my guest, and I gratefully accepted. For three days in October, a group of thirty or so Civil War enthusiasts toured battlegrounds such as Richmond, Munfordville, Bardstown, Frankfort and finally Perryville. While Ken was the organizer of this tour, it was actually led by a fellow named Chris Kolakowski who just so happened to be the chief historian at Perryville battlefield. I was pleased to see on Amazon recently that Chris has just published a book on Perryville. I can’t wait to read it.