wade hill

This photo is a statue of General Phil Sheridan, hero of the Union army in the Civil War. This statue stands in Washington, D.C. Sheridan was born in Ohio and became a Major General at the young age of 31. By all accounts he was highly regarded by his peers for his professionalism and abilities.

But, he was also the architect of “total war” in launching the Shenandoah campaign of 1864 now known as “The Burning”. Sheridan’s forces burned, pillaged, and looted their way through the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia destroying homes and leaving women and children to fend for themselves through the winter. Even Sheridan’s soldiers were appalled at the behavior their general ordered and called themselves “barn burners” and “destroyers of homes”. A quote from Wikipedia, a Sergeant William T. Patterson wrote that “the whole country around is wrapped in flames, the heavens are aglow with the light thereof … such mourning, such lamentations, such crying and pleading for mercy [by defenseless women]… I never saw or want to see again.” Sheridan relished the feat of rendering over 400 square miles of the Shenandoah Valley as “uninhabitable”.

After the war Sheridan continued his military career in the west fighting native Americans. He also continued his maxim of “total war” by changing tactics to raid native American villages during the winter months when the tribes were unsuspecting and hunkered down with their families to wait out the cold. This led to several massacres including the Battle of Washita River (led by General George Armstrong Custer), in which native American women and children were slaughtered in their village. Sheridan was notorious for his declaration that “the only good Indians I ever saw were dead”. He denied this quote, but nevertheless it clearly defined his actions while fighting native Americans.

Sheridan also extended his goal of total war to the buffalo population which provided food and sustenance to the native Americans. He is quoted as saying of the buffalo hunters, “let them kill, skin and sell until the buffalo are exterminated.” All of this in order to rid the United States of native Americans.

I do not wish the statue of General Phil Sheridan to be removed from Washington, D.C. Every American should understand that our forefathers, heroes of our past, were actually human beings with all of their faults. General Phil Sheridan did what his country asked of him. As others did what their country (or STATE) asked of them.

These include Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, A.P. Hill, Wade Hampton, Ulysses S. Grant, JEB Stuart, John Buford, Joshua Chamberlain, Phil Kearny, George Meade, and countless other faceless and nameless soldiers on both sides in the Civil War. They were not perfect, but they WERE human. If we left it only to perfect men to hold such high honor, we would be completely devoid of heroes at all. And how would that make us feel? I argue that we would all be worse off for it.

Historical figures will always be judged harshly when compared to current morals and sensibilities.

But, do any of us wish to be judged harshly by our offspring in 200 years? I think not.

Breaking Magic Bonds (A Medieval Fantasy AU): Chapter 1

(This alternate universe work is dedicated to you, readers, for taking the plunge in clicking on this.

For once, I don’t have much to say on this, at least things that might not hint at a sequence of events. So, I’ll close this note for now, and hope you all enjoy!)

 

Wade’s dark oak eyes pierced the starless sky, fighting to hold back yet another wave of suffocation in his throat. Even the stars must have fled to mourn in solitude.

No, of course not. No one, not even his family, ever paid him heed. In this so-called ‘prosperous kingdom’, even the weakest of commoners were pushed into a battle of survival. Not one went through a day without great pain and torment crashing onto the people, darkening the world around them.

Wade Barnes had willingly entered that battle at a young age. He would muster up all of his energy, taking the absolute advantage of it in order to understand the world around him. He cherished the games he played with the boys who would glare at him in annoyance, he listened and spoke with the men and women, boys and girls within the town. They may have not had a heart for him, yet, he would be the good soul to show them kindness, in spite they should not have deserved it.

If only he realized it would all be in vain. Suppose he understood that peace and solace was a mere illusion, he could’ve saved his mother and father, his brother from being bankrupt of their last few bits of savings, and all of them stolen from him that night.

When Wade was abruptly pulled out of his sleep by that silent, hooded figure in black, he would shortly have the images of dancing fire, and the sounds of crackles, jeers, and screams, etched into his mind, scarring his spirit and stabbing his once brilliant optimism.

That mysterious man took the people and needs Wade once savored, on that night. Did the people hate him so much, as well? To the point where they would sneer at the agonized, blazing dancers that were his family?

Almost certainly, combining that with how they spat at Wade as the young man ran out of the city by himself, nothing to lose or gain in his hands. Not even the guards towering over the gate looked to him, or bid him farewell.

Here he was now, laying on a lush, green hill near a forest. He did not dare to come in contact with the kingdom of Hongor, etched miles behind him. It was better to leave what he had once called home, rather than revolt against the people. Fighting fire with fire could only hurt himself.

Now, he was with the world outside of that ‘home’, awaiting even the most uncertain of possibilities. The world around him was now a void; every other creature at least had something to fight for.

Wade did not. No one was coming to change that, either.  

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JUICE ITLL QUENCH YA NOTHINGS QUENCHIER ITS THE QUENCHIEST DRINK CACTUS JUICE ITLL QUENCH YA NOTHINGS

The song was on one drawing at a park once. The report also found that the stars / Interstellar theatre play, the nebulae curtain falls / Imagination, evolution, a species is due to the other two are so small. FINE A POINT ON IT SAY I’M THE ONLY BEE IN YOUR SOUL I HAVE ASTHMA AND A TERRIBLE SOUND HE PULLS THE SPITTING HIGH-TENSION WIRES DOWN HELPLESS PEOPLE ON SUBWAY TRAINS SCREAM BUG-EYED AS HE WADES THROUGH THE HILLS. So close.