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Confederacy
My friend Joseph Matheson sent me these pictures.  Joey would be pleased if I were to switch my allegiance from the Yankee to the Rebel.  Sorry Joey. I am not that easily converted.  Your pictures are so impressive though that I think they deserve a home of their own.

The Guns of October


   I feel the gnawing in my guts,
  The horse's snort their fear!
  The smell of death is in the air
   The man in black is near.

We pay homage to our colors
We send love to our wives
Our guns are silent for a moment
  In tribute to the gift,our lives

The orders are now given!
Too late to turn the tide
We, who before salute you
   Are ready,for that fateful ride

The smoke fills our nostrils.
As we move in to the fray
Bits of bodies showered amongst us
Lord! Can we ever forget this day

The list grows long as shadows fall
And messmates fail to show
  It is time to count our blessings
To be ready to be on the go

Say a prayer to the almighty
  And get ready for some more
Cause The guns of October
  Will come beating on your Door

Written by John Murphy
By Dawns early Light
Click here for more pictures

From the "State Newspaper, Columbia, SC, May 18, 1881.
A Man with a Charmed Life:  A man stopped at the Commercial Hotel, Newcomerstown, on Sunday
who has made the journey from Little
Falls, N.Y., on foot.  He is on his road to the Drayton Soldier's Home, and his history is indeed remarkable and should place him in the class as
one of the battle scarred heroes of the republic.  His life is more like a dime novel romance than real history.

He enlisted in the United States regular army in 1843, when only 15 years, and after having serving in the war with Mexico, re-enlisted in 1848,
1853 and 1858.  He participated in the Battle of Bull Run (July, 1861) and other severe engagements in 1861-62-63, and was taken prisoner by the
Rebels at Vicksburg on June 24, 1863.  He served over five months in the Salisbury prison (North Carolina), and several months in other Rebel
prison pens.  At Andersonville (Infamous Prison in Georgia) he was shot in the mouth by the notorious keeper of the pen (Wurtz)(Wurtz was so
bad he was hung by the US after the war) and carries the bullet in his head at this time.

In 1865 he escaped from the rebels under Kirby Smith, near Brownsville, Texas, and swam the Rio Grande under fire from his persuers, receiving
a severe wound in his right hand, which tore off three fingers and the thumb.  On reaching the opposite shore he was captured by the
"Greasers", a band of Indians and local half breeds who know nothing but murder, rape and plunder, and he was a prisoner with them until last
September.  during all the fifteen years he was a captive he suffered untold hardships, and his repeated attempts to escape were rewarded with
his body litterly peppered with bullets.  In his attempts to escape he was shot fourteen times, and now carries in his body two four once silver
balls, four lead balls and one copper ball.  The latter he received while attempting to escape on the 16th of last September.  On that day the band
of Indians  having him in charge  were captured by the Mexicans and all condemned to death.  He appealed to Consul General Foster for
protection as a United States Citizen, and just as the Mexicans were adjusting the rope around his neck Consul Foster's orders for his release
reached him and he was spared.  He was sent to New York on a United States Steamer and as he has no relatives living at Littlefalls he started
for this state on foot.  He showed this reporter a four once silver ball that Dr. Mott, of New York, extracted from one of his wounds.  Th wound
made by the copper ball which he received last September is in his left breast, and the flesh and skin, as well as his nails, have become copper
colored.  The shootings from the wound are colored green with the verdigris contained in the fluids, and the physician told him that the acid
fluids of the body would gradually convert the ball into verdigris and it would thus be expelled from the system, although the wound would
never heal.   Cleveland Ledger, April 21, 1881.
Joey
John  Murphy
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