Selfies

(which by definition means I’m in them . . . though you might have to look for me)

There were eleven families (with nearly 60 children) living in the Wilson’s Creek area when the path of war suddenly and dramatically changed their lives, exploding upon their agrarian bliss on the morning of August 10, 1861. Miles of six foot tall fences, built to keep animals out of their corn fields, were no deterrent to military expedience. Twelve thousand Southern troops had arrived and nearly six thousand Federal troops were on their way, hoping for success in a surprise attack.

One house remains dating back to the time of the Battle of Wilson’s Creek: the home of the Ray family. At 6:30 on the morning of the battle, John Ray could see from his front porch the beginning of the Union attack in his nearby corn field (the fence-lined hill in the distance).

When the Rays emerged from shelter after the battle ended, the scene was that of land trampled by man and beast, strewn with bodies of the same – like battle debris. But it was the sounds of agony from the dying that would cling to their memories for the rest of their days. Their home was transformed into an overrun field hospital as they feverishly tended to the injured. Countless trips were made by the Rays’ children to this spring house to fetch water. Passing through the horrific scenes, they climbed the hill to their house, some three hundred yards away to deliver water for the soldiers to drink and for the surgeons to use in cleaning wounds and instruments.

Today, Wilson’s Creek is an eerie reminder of the indiscriminate occasion of war – as picturesque as it was days before the Civil War made its way to Missouri.

MEETING THE NEWS on the roadways of America, first-hand, real time, real world news—going out and discovering the news . . .

NEWS IN THE TOPOGRAPHY: Why a significant battle in a secluded, little-known location like Wilson’s Creek? Stagecoaches – my predecessors – ran along Wire Road connecting Springfield, Missouri and Fort Smith, Arkansas. The road got its name from the telegraph wire strung beside it. Twelve thousand southern troops led by Generals Sterling Price and Ben McCulloch were camped throughout a 1,700 acre area where Wire Road crossed Wilson’s Creek. The creek supplied fresh water for the large army, the road and the wire were important for communication and movement of supplies, and the surrounding land was full of cattle and crops (albeit, those belonging to the families living in the area), enough to feed the sizeable army during a brief encampment.

NEWS OF WEATHER: Weather played a key role in the Battle of Wilson’s Creek in at least two ways. One: rain on the night of august 9 th forced the Confederate leaders to cancel their intended surprise attack on Federal forces due to gunpowder that was unprotected from the wet conditions. Thus they were stationary and unsuspecting when attacked. Near the end of the battle temperatures near 105 degrees made it hard to tell who was fighting who.

NEWS IN A NAME: Quiet and serene, time hushes distant sounds of battle on this peaceful landscape, challenging comprehension of connection to its gruesome name: “Bloody Hill.” But over the course of six hours more than 2,500 soldiers were killed or wounded in this place, many of them on this hill.

NEWS OF HISTORICAL CONNECTION: Missouri was uncommitted, a slave state but without proclaimed Union or Confederate allegiance. Brigadier General Nathaniel Lyon took it upon himself to change that. Prior to the Civil War Nathaniel Lyon had served as commander of the St. Louis Arsenal (present home of the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency). His efforts to secure control of the St. Louis Arsenal and the rail line from St. Louis to Rolla gave his Union army logistical advantage, sound weapons, and an ongoing supply of munitions. His daring leadership cost him his life. It also got the attention of President Lincoln, highlighting the importance of greater federal support in Missouri, which ultimately proved decisive.