Wheat Field

Wheat Field, Wheat, Field, Evening Sun, Clouds, Cereals


Wheat field – stands of golden grain

Bread basket –  our lives to sustain

A staff of life – giving us our fill

And yet Wheat field can be a bitter pill


The Wheat field – and the harvesting of grain

But also a harvest of inhuman pain

At Gettysburg  – Sickles – ironic his name

As by his order – a Wheatfield –

Was filled with the slain


Wheat field golden – production of bread

Name associated with life, and the dead




dVerse – Stream of Consciousness Writing

After the Advance

Image result for battle of chancellorsville

public domain

The Second Corps had advanced, and after several hours volley fire and artillery duels the Federal troops had begun yet another retreat towards Washington.

The fighting now in a lull, Corporal Cooke sat down to take a much needed rest.  At twenty, he was already proved himself, so thought he could afford the break.  He opened a haversack, and took out a month old copy of Harper’s Weekly.  Though old, he had not yet had a chance to read this edition.  He scanned the pages, and shook his head at the inaccuracy of the woodblock prints.

After reading several articles, he put the magazine back into the sack and took out an envelope.  The address was in a delicate feminine hand, and he sniffed the paper to see if it retained any sign of dainty scent.  He then took out the letter.  It began with the words, My Dearest Harvey.  The letter was mostly chatty little accounts of what was going on in the town back home, but some lines hinted at her undying love.  He folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope, and withdrew the photograph of a handsome young woman with big expressive eyes.  He smiled as he looked at the pretty face, and then returned the picture to the envelope as well.

As he replaced the letter back into the haversack, he took out three pieces of hardtack biscuit, and a half eaten link of hard sausage.  He drew his bayonet and cut the meat into three pieces and placed each onto the square crackers.   He let each bite slowly soften in his mouth before chewing them and swallowing – making the most of each and every mouthful.

The recall soon sounded, and Corporal John Cooke of Jubal Early’s Division stood up and grabbed his rifle-musket.  He bent over and collected all of the percussion caps out of the belt pouch of the body of the dead Pennsylvanian he had been leaning up against.

“Thank you kindly for the lunch, Harvey,” he said to the corpse giving it a friendly nod of the head as he departed.




FOWC with Fandango — Advance




Paddy’s Lamentation

Image result for charge of the irish brigade fredericksburg



Jim Adams has set a challenge to share song lyrics which mention someone famous.  The rules are straight forward:

  • Post the lyrics to the song of your choice, whether it fits the theme or not.
  • Please try to include the songwriter(s) – it’s a good idea to give credit where credit is due.
  • Make sure you also credit the singer/band and if you desire you can provide a link to where you found the lyrics.
  • Link to the YouTube video, or pull it into your post so others can listen to the song.
  • Ping back to this post will eventually work, as long as you are being patient, but you can also place your link in the comments if you don’t like to wait.
  • Read at least one other person’s blog, so we can all share new and fantastic music and create amazing new blogging friends in the process.
  • Feel free to suggest future prompts.
  • Have fun and enjoy the music.
Paddy’s Lamentation
Oh it’s by the hush, me boys, and sure that’s to hold your noise
And listen to poor Paddy’s lamentation
Oh, I was by hunger pressed, and in poverty distressed
So I took a thought I’d leave the Irish nation
Well I sold me horse and cow, my little pigs and sow
My little plot of land and I were parted
And me sweetheart Britt McGee I’m afraid I’ll never see
For I left her there that morning broken-hearted
Oh here’s you boys, now take my advice
To America I’ll have you’s not be coming
There is nothing here but war where the murdering cannons roar
And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin
Well meself and a hundred more to America sailed o’er
Our fortunes to be made we were thinking
When we got to Yankee land they shoved a gun into our hands
Saying “Paddy, you must go and fight for Lincoln
Well I thought myself in luck, to be fed on Indian buck
And old Ireland the place that I delight in
But with the devil I do say “curse Americay”
For I am sick and tired of this hard fighting
Oh here’s you boys, now take my advice
To America I’ll have you’s not be coming
There is nothing here but war where the murdering cannons roar
And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin
Yes, I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin
Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Linda Thompson / Adam Teddy Thompson
Paddy’s Lamentation lyrics © Chrysalis Music, 1830 Music

The song is a lament of an Irish immigrant to the USA at the time of the American Civil War.  Famine and shortages at home and war in America.  The story is shared by many of the Irish who came to the US in that time.  President Abraham Lincoln and GeneralThomas Francis Meagher of the Irish Brigade are both referenced in the song.




The sounds of rattling weapons, and the clang of tin cups against canteens were heard throughout the night.   General Sumner’s entire Second Corps was now in place, and the little Maryland town of Sharpsburg was now going to be the focus of a tremendous battle.

Among the various sutlers and “camp followers” which accompanied the Army of the Potomac was seventeen-year old Amy Anne Howard.  Amy was a pretty New York City laundress and when her employer Mrs. Harrington announced that she was going to “march south” with the boys of the 61st, Amy begged for the chance to go with her.

While Amy’s patriotism, and loyalty to the widowed Harrington, were without question, she did have her own agenda as well.  This was namely the person of Private John Randolph Daniels.  Howard and Daniels had grown up in the same tenement and when he had joined the army she was sure her “life would end” without him.

Now they were in Maryland, and the relationship, while still rather innocent, was blossoming.  But the upcoming battle seemed ominous.  On the 16th of September, John Randolph, therefore went to his company commander and begged for permission to marry.  The Captain was a compassionate man and gave his assent.

John then went and found Amy and asked her to marry him.  While this was an unorthodox way to arrange things it did make things run a bit smoother.

Amy jumped at the chance.  Early on the morning of the 17th, Mrs. Harrington quickly prepared the soon-to-be bride’s hair and the three rushed to the Chaplain just as the opening sounds of battle began to be heard.

There, next to the Chaplain’s tent, the young couple, attended by Mrs. Harrington and a quickly waylaid Corporal Taylor, stood before the clergyman.

“Time being what it is,” the old parson said, “we will dispense with all the unnecessary bits.”

The couple nodded in agreement as a salvo of canon fire briefly drowned out their speech.

“Amy Anne, do you take John Randolph?”

“Yes, sir.” she replied.

“John Randolph, do you take Amy Anne?”

“Yes sir!” John said loudly.

“Then consider yourselves took,” the chaplain said.  “Now kiss that girl, and go fetch your musket, Soldier.”

And that was that.

John survived the Battle of Antietam, and the pair had thirty-five years and seven children together.



Tale Weaver #227 – Wedding – 13th June




Union Field Chapel at Sunset – ACWS UK


The battle’s o’r – the day is done-

The weary enter nocturnes’ peace –

They for now, their eyes can close –

For a moment – let struggles cease.


For these – they soon, shall need to face –

A new day’s rising sun –

Marching from place to place –

In hope of victories – to be won.


But for others today – they too can rest –

Their race has now been run –

They a glory – now will see –

As they meet the welcoming Son.















USS Rattler

Heading upriver weren’t go’in to be easy.  The Rebs had put batteries on several of the bluffs, and Rattler didn’t have the thickest of armour.  But orders was orders, and she and Glide would run past the Confederate guns at Fort Hindman in the morning.

The next day,  Rattler and Glide steamed past the fort with all twelve of their guns blazing.  The two stern-wheelers made it rather “hot” for the Secesh, many of them fled their posts as the 24 pound shells burst around them.   With the rifle pits abandoned, Ol’ Bill Sherman and his boys kinda just strolled up into the fort.

Who said that the Navy don’t belong in Arkansas?



Inspired by the prompt:  UPRIVER ~ PIC AND A WORD CHALLENGE #177