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AAR - 6th NC PATCON October 1st - 6th 2014 SCALAWAG OF THE MONTH: TRAITOR SESSIONS
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Tim Pawlenty is a great example of the intellectual and analytical bankruptcy of the political press in this country. He was a serious candidate only to them and thus he remained a serious candidate even when the evidence out on the trail and in the debates said otherwise.
Meanwhile Ron Paul on the other hand, who got far less coverage in the media than Pawlenty, still can’t shake the “he can’t win” meme of the media despite 1). Having the fourth largest vote total in Iowa Straw Poll history; 2). Having more votes than both messrs. Romney and Huckabee four years ago; 3). coming within 152 votes of winning first place outright; 4). having improved greatly upon his performance four years ago.
In fact, Roger Simon, The King of Snark himself, basically admitted what everyone knew: Media people will continue to ignore Paul no matter what he does.
Every time Paul accomplishes something the media continues to mover the goalposts. Raise money. Check. Win CPAC they say. Check that. Show that you have voters in Iowa instead of out-of-state fans. Check that too. But that’s still not good enough. If he wins the Iowa Caucuses they’ll saw say Iowa is a small, white caucus state and shouldn’t be first anyway. If he wins New Hampshire Primary they’ll say New Hampshire is a small, white state and shouldn’t go first anyway. Hell, by this token they’ll cover something else during Paul’s inaugural ceremony in January 2013 as well.
Any candidate with Paul’s ability to raise money, have nationwide support and organization would be taken seriously by the media. But instead, because of their own personal or ideological biases (I would say more of the former), they would rather waste newsprint and bandwith on a candidate who, by the time of the Straw Poll was 2% in polls. It makes no logical sense except only in presenting the candidates they deem acceptable to the voting public.
What is the Republican “mainstream? Can they themselves define it? I thought the Republican Party was an American institution filled diverse views. Are they saying the GOP is like the North Korea People’s Assembly in that only certain views will be allowed and anything else is grounds for arrest and reeducation camp? Did it ever occur to them Paul may well be converting the “mainstream”, making arguments and convincing people he’s right. Do conservatives know how to do this anymore or are they too used to preaching to the choir? Going from 1,308 votes four years ago to 4,600 tells me he’s converted a lot of Iowans to his views. How the media cannot be impressed this only deepens the suspicions reporters either a). Don’t like what Paul stands for; b). Don’t like him personally or c). Don’t understand him or what’s trying to say, which only highlights their own lack of smarts and inability for anything outside of two-demensional thinking (Left and or Right).
No matter what the true reason is, it simply highlight the joke political journalism has become. To empty their media organization’s expense account in Ames and then debate whether it means anything or not is the height of institutional arrogance. They should only hope their paychecks don’t bounce later.
Below is one of the articles written by Brownwood Banner - Bulletin staff writer Henry C. Fuller after Interviewing William C. "Bloody Bill" Anderson of Quantrill's Guerrillas of the Civil War at his home at Salt Creek, Brown County, Texas in 1924. Henry Fuller's interview articles appeared in newspapers and magazines all across the United States.
"Six miles from Brownwood, on the banks of Salt Creek, a pretty
stream, that flows between rocky banks through pecan groves and
lovely valleys to the Colorado River, lives Uncle Bill Anderson, now
85 years old, and one time member of the famous Quantrill band of
guerrillas. The writer formed the acquaintance of Uncle Bill about
five year ago when he came to this part of Texas and has spent many hours talking to him about the stirring days of the past, at his home on Salt Creek. Uncle Bill, as everybody knows him, is a familiar figure on the streets of Brownwood on Saturday, and spends most of his time when in town at the courthouse, conversing with old time friends and acquaintances. He seldom talks about his connection with the famous band of William Quantrill, and it is only to the closest friends that he talks at all on this subject.
He joined Quantrill at the beginning of the tragic career of that
stormy petrel of the Civil War and was with him in practically [all
his] raids against the armies of the Union. Uncle Bill Anderson is
supposed to be dead, and the official reports in the office of the
secretary of war at Washington, signed by Major Cox of the Union
army, show that he was killed in Ray County, Missouri, about the
close of the Civil War, and was buried near where he was killed.
In a book written some time ago by a man named Connelly, who is now president of the Kansas Historical Society at Topeka, Kansas, pains are taken to show just how Bill Anderson was killed by Union soldiers. The story is that on a certain occasion while Anderson with a small band of guerrillas was raiding in Ray County, Missouri,
far removed from the main band under Quantrill, the Union forces
found it out and sent Major Cox with a detachment of soldiers and
under sealed orders to go to Ray County and Cox was not to open his
orders until he had reached a certain locality, which he was to do by
night, using the utmost secrecy and stealth in doing so and not
intimating to his men where he was going.
Major Cox followed the directions, and on reaching the lonely spot in
Ray County, he opened his orders and was surprised that they told him he was now in the immediate vicinity of the camp of Bill Anderson, right hand man of Quantrill, and that while most of his men were to ambush or conceal themselves behind a fence on both sides of a long land that opened from a wooded area, a small detachment was to go forward, locate the band of Anderson and as soon as they had done so, beat a hasty retreat, running back through the lane, and the rest of the men under Cox were to fire upon the guerrillas and kill them as they came by.
The plan worked fine, but when the scouts located Bill Anderson, and
Anderson's men gave instant pursuit, Anderson himself did not go.
However, one of his lieutenants mounted on the fine horse of Anderson had joined in the chase. Every man was killed in ambush in the lane, just as the orders of Cox anticipated, and the one on the big horse known to belong to Anderson, was taken for Anderson.
As soon as Bill Anderson heard the shooting he knew that an ambuscade had told the story, and mounting another horse in camp he plunged into the woods and escaped. This was his last escapade of the war. Leaving Missouri, he rode southward and kept on riding, riding until he reached what is now the State of Texas, and then he rode on and on, intending to go to Mexico and locate there. By and by he reached the lovely valley of Salt Creek, in what is now Brown County. Nobody lived here then, and once in (a) while roving bands of Indians passed through the country. It was a charming place on an extreme feather edge of things. Bluebonnets were in bloom as far as the eye could see. Antelope and deer and an occasional buffalo and wild turkeys and prairie chickens added to the interest and beauty of the landscape. Through this lovely valley the little stream that Uncle Bill named Salt Creek wended its way, between great groves of pecan trees.
In the distance great hills formed as attractive and satisfactory
background. As Bill Anderson, then a young man, looked upon the
peaceful scene, far removed from strife and from human habitation, he made up his mind at once to go no further in search of a place in which to locate and build a home. So tethering his horse in the midst of as fine grass as was ever tasted by the equine species, and after broiling a fine steak from a deer which he shot, the wanderer spread his blanket and with his saddle under his head was soon sleeping quietly, and dreaming perhaps of the stirring days with Quantrill back in Missouri. On the following day he rode up and down the valley, and at last selected the place on which to build his house.
The house was built of logs - a double-roomed affair, and still
stands, although he has added to it as the years passed, covering it
by and by with lumber hauled on ox wagons from Fort Worth. In time Bill married and children came to bless the union as the old saying goes. These children grew to manhood and womanhood, married and now in Brown County, all good people and doing their part toward making the world and humanity better in every way."
William C. "Bloody Bill" Anderson - 1924
The NC LS Summer Conference/Nathaniel Macon Institute (NMI) will be held in the Allred Banquet Room in Burlington, Saturday 27 August. Our topic will be the Tenth Amendment, and a review of North Carolina's current reaffirmation of State sovereignty pending in the North Carolina legislature. Please visit our Upcoming Events page for more details and directions.
Finally – history honestly reported on a website commemorating the valor, sacrifices and devotion to liberty of North Carolinians, 1861-1865! Visit, read, link to, and recommend to your friends, family and acquaintances for a proper “Tarheel view” of the War Between the States. The website content presents North Carolina history in an unapologetic and well-documented fashion, and often in the words of those fighting to defend this State. Not to be missed is Dr. Clyde Wilson’s website introduction.
The site is under continuous updating, please pass it along to those you think in need of a healthy dose of North Carolina history.
Via Ken, Pender Roundtable
THE NEWBERN BATTLE.
Saturday night, March 15.}
Dear Father – I find that I have an opportunity to-night of giving you and Mother a short account of the terrible battle and retreat which took place eight miles below Newbern, on Friday night the 14th. Wednesday night Capt. Adams received orders that the Yankees being twelve miles below us in large force, he should command his men to prepare three days rations, and be ready to march at a moments notice. At about 11 o’clock I went to bed, and slept till three, when we were ordered up to fall in ranks. I ran to the kitchen, filled my knap-sack with bread and meat, strapped a blanket to my back, and fell in ranks just as my name was called. Our regiment, consisting of ten companies, then took up the line of march and for five long miles we plodded through the darkness and mud, while the rain was wetting us to the skin. At about day break, we reached Fort Thompson, and after a great deal of marching and countermarching, which occupied the whole forenoon, we were at last thrown behind a line of breastworks which extended from Fort Thompson on the left – the Fort was on the banks of the river – to the railroad on the right about two miles. All day Thursday the Yankees continued to shell the batteries below us, and towards dark the shell commenced falling along our lines. During the whole day the rain continued to fall, my clothes were wet through. The enemy now commenced landing, and continued to shell us until after dark. Night came on; our men were exhausted, cold and wet - We threw ourselves down on the wet ground, wrapped ourselves in our drenched blankets, and tried to rest. The rain fell all night long. We had no tents nor houses. I suppose I slept an hour that night. Towards daylight our pickets were driven in by the enemy, we were instantly aroused, and seizing our guns rushed to the breastworks. We were held in suspense for two hours. At length the firing commenced on the right. At the same time the steamers from the river commenced pouring the shells into our left. The “Guilford Greys” were stationed on the extreme left wing, and were within five hundred yards of the enemy’s steamers during the hottest of the fight.
The situation of our company was perfectly awful. The infantry of the enemy did not expose themselves to our fire, and while the shell were falling all around us, and in our midst as fast as hail, or the click of a clock, we (the “Grays”) could not do a thing. We lay in the ditch which was half filled with water and mud, hoping, praying – that the enemy would show themselves to us, so that we could return the havoc which was raging along the left of our line. During the whole of this time, a terrible fight was going on on our right. The enemy were trying to outflank us there. Two times they were repulsed, they fought like tigers. Again they came on, and now more awful than before, raged the battle. Captain Latham’s artillery lost every horse, two-thirds of his men lay dead and bleeding on the ground. The horses of Brem’s artillery were all shot dead, still he poured a continued fire of grape and shot into the advancing ranks of the enemy. Our infantry kept up a deadly fire – hundreds of the Yankees must have fallen – on, on they came. From our lines one vast sheet of flame vomited forth death. They waver, stop – again they repulsed – again they retire. The firing on the right now suddenly ceased. But faster than ever fell the bombs on our left where the Grays were stationed. Within a few feet of me a shell burst, killed a man not three feet from me. Another covered me with dirt; another came crashing, tearing, belching death just on my left, and tore up the breastworks so that a horse could have been stuffed in the gap. Still we could not return the fire. How we prayed in that dark and bloody hour that the men who were pouring death into our ranks would but show themselves. The steamers had now approached within three hundred yards of our company. In five more minutes they could have been in our rear, and without breastworks to protect us, one broadside from a single streamer would have sent every soul of us into eternity. The teeth of every man were ground together. Determination sat upon their brows. We, every man of us, had determined not to retire, but to stay and await a foe that we could contend with, or meet our doom there. Nearer, nearer come the steamers. In three minutes more they would be in our rear. Faster crash the bombs - the roar is deafening Hark! that shout on the right! The enemy have outflanked us – we are whipped. The stars and stripes are planted on our breastworks on the right – the enemy have a sweeping fire down our lines. And now commenced the retreat, the rout, for rout it was. Men throw away their guns, coats, everything that could encumber their disgraceful flight. The Grays were astounded, they had not thought of flight. Hurrying across the field fled our whole army; we could not stay there alone – none to support us. Capt. Adams shouted “right about,” and off we started in a full run, the last to leave the field, the very last. The enemy now came up from a ravine just behind our company and took possession of our wing of the line just as we left.
The steamers continued to shell us as fast as ever. Every moment, until I reached Newbern, a distance of eight miles, the bombs were bursting over my head and around me. The others all soon out-distanced me and I was left alone. Still I pressed on and though exhausted, held on to my gun, determined never to leave that. I passed by my tent, five miles from the field of battle; it was on the banks of the river. The steamers were right off against it, and the shell were raining as fast as ever. I dared not stop to save a thing, and indeed, could not have carried a pin’s weight more anyway. I was now out of breath, nearly dead from exhaustion. Still I had to go three miles further to reach Newbern bridge. The enemy were putting on all their steam to reach the bridge first and cut us off. It was a race of life and death. I gathered my energies and managed to walk slowly on, on, on I plodded through mud and water up to my knees. – I came in sight of the bridge – I thought I was about to fall; I tasted blood, I feared a blood vessel would burst. For a moment I rested. Then up and on. I reached the bridge. I was so nearly dead that I could not carry my cartridge box any longer. I had to throw it away or yield myself up to – Heaven knows what – I threw it away, but clung to my gun, that I was determined never to part with. I managed to crawl over the bridge. As I reached the last plank it was in flames. Had I been five minutes later, I should have been cut off! I threw myself down on a box in the street to rest. Even the passers by, hurrying to save themselves, stopped a moment to look at me – one kind lady stopped and offered to bring me some water. I could only say rest, rest. In half an hour I was able to rise and walk on. Well for me that I did, for the Yankees now had possession of the town, and it was in flames. I now pushed on and learned my company were just ahead. I, however, could not overtake my company. But I had plenty of companions. Nearly all the citizens of Newbern were flying too, men, women, and children. I marched 11 miles that afternoon, making in all a march of 19 miles after being two nights without rest, one of which was spent out in the rain; and after being in a battle all the forenoon. - How I ever did it, God only knows. Eleven miles from Newbern I got aboard the train and came to Kinston, where I got a good bed – feathers! something new for a soldier. Today I can scarcely walk, I am so stiff and sore. For the present, we make a stand here, 35 miles from Newbern. I think, however, we will soon fall back upon Goldsboro. H.K.
Carolina Watchman. Weekly. Salisbury, N.C. March 31, 1862. Vol. XIX, No. 68.
Transcribed by Gilbert “Skip” Riddle
Henry Kellogg is H.K. only one with those initials in the Guilford Grays
Provided by Ed Harding:
North Carolina Troops 1861-1865: A Roster
Volume VIII, Page 25-26, Infantry
Co. B. 27th Regiment N.C. Troops (Guilford Grays)
KELLOGG, HENRY G., Private
Resided in Guildford County and enlisted at Fort Macon at age 21, August 1, 1861. Present or accounted for until January, 1863, when he was detailed for duty with the brigade commissary department. Reported on detail with the commissary department at Salisbury from January 1864 through February 1865.
The Captain of the company was their 2nd Captain. Their first Captain, John Sloan was elected Lieutenant Colonel of the Regiment on September 28, 1861.
ADAMS, WILLIAM, Captain
Born in Guilford County where he resided as an attorney prior to enlisting at Fort Macon at age 25. Elected 1st Lieutenant on or about April 20, 1861, and was elected Captain on or about October 4, 1861. Present or accounted for until shot through the abdomen and killed on September 17, 1862, while "fighting nobly on the bloody field of Sharpsburg," Maryland.
The Battle of New Bern
Patriotic and Proud
Scary stuff, the coordination center where the Federals disseminate the “official” propaganda to local law enforcement and to other local agencies. The beginning of the STASI-USA “report on your neighbors” police state is right here.
Bitter laughter is my main response to the events of the past week. You are surprised by what has happened? Why? I have been saying for years that it was coming, and why it was coming, and what could be done to stop it.
I have said it in books, in articles, over lunch and dinner tables with politicians whose lips curled with lofty contempt.
So yes, I am deeply sorry for the innocent and gentle people who have lost lives, homes, businesses and security. Heaven knows I have argued for years for the measures that might have saved them.
The revelations about Operation Fast and Furious keep getting worse. The Obama administration needs to start showing some accountability and providing answers.
In the latest round of congressional hearings on the gun sting run amok, agents of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives posted to Mexico City testified that they pleaded with their superiors in Washington to end the operation. “Hey, when are they going to shut this, to put it bluntly, damn investigation down?” one ATF agent recalled asking. “We're getting hurt down here.”
ATF agents in the United States lost track of as many as 1,700 weapons that were intentionally sold to straw buyers under Operation Fast and Furious since 2009, many of which ended up in the hands of violent drug cartels. According to the Mexican government, which was not aware of the program, 150 Mexican citizens have been killed or injured by weapons smuggled in from the United States with the full knowledge of U.S. officials.
Which officials knew about the program and its failures is still a big question. President Barack Obama and Attorney General Eric Holder have denied knowledge of Operation Fast and Furious before this spring, and no one at the Justice Department — the ATF's parent agency — has acknowledged a role in authorizing or running the program. Yet Operation Fast and Furious didn't materialize out of nowhere.
Jerzy Hoffman's Battle Of Warsaw 1920, a big budget spectacle created by the veteran, Oscar nominated director with the help of Black Hawk Down cinematographer Slawomir Idziak.With an all star cast and a healthy budget this should be gorgeous on the big screen
An Oscar Nominated Director, Oscar Nominated Cinematographer And A Literal Cast Of Thousands Combine For 3D Epic BATTLE OF WARSAW 1920Like your epics epic-sized? How about battle sequences featuring 3500 extras popping off the screen in three dimensions? Does that count as epic enough for you? Because that's what's coming in Jerzy Hoffman's Battle Of Warsaw 1920, a big budget spectacle created by the veteran, Oscar nominated director with the help of Black Hawk Down cinematographer Slawomir Idziak.With an all star cast and a healthy budget this should be gorgeous on the big screen.
Lexington, VA: JOIN US THURSDAY, SEPT. 1ST FOR OUR COMMUNITY FLAG RALLY AND THE CITY COUNCIL MEETING TO OPPOSE THE FLAG BAN ORDINANCE
FLAGS TO BE BANNED BY ORDER OF THE LEXINGTON CITY COUNCIL!!!!!
AND IN DOING SO, THE PROPOSED ORDINANCE WILL ALSO BAN THE FLAGS OF THE LOCAL COLLEGES
TELL LEXINGTON CITY COUNCIL THAT BANNING THE AREA'S HISTORY IS JUST PLAIN WRONG !!!!
PLEASE SUPPORT THE AREA'S HISTORY FOR THE ECONOMY, EDUCATION, TOURISM, AND
OUR OBJECTIVE IS TO SEE THAT THE CITY OF LEXINGTON SHOW RESPECT AND DIGNITY TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT E. LEE AND THOMAS J. 'STONEWALL' JACKSON IN THE CITY WHERE BOTH MEN LAY BURIED AND THAT THE FLAGS THEY FOUGHT UNDER, AND IN JACKSON'S CASE DIED FOR, BE HONORABLY DISPLAYED ON THEIR DESIGNATED STATE HOLIDAY IN JANUARY EACH YEAR.
WE LIVE IN A CITY THAT HAS PROFITED GREATLY ON THE NAMES OF THESE TWO MEN AND FOR MANY YEARS DECLARED ITSELF "THE SHRINE OF THE SOUTH." TODAY, SOME CITY LEADERS CAN BARELY TOLERATE THE PRESENCE OF THOSE WHO VISIT THEIR GRAVES AND ACTUALLY CONSIDER LEE AND JACKSON TO BE HONORABLE. HISTORIC SITES ARE ENCOURAGED TO DOWNPLAY THEIR "HEROIC" IMAGE AND INSTEAD FOCUS ON THEIR FLAWS, REAL OR IMAGINED. LOCAL BUSINESS WILL SUFFER AS MANY SIMPLY CAN NO LONGER SUPPORT LOCAL SHOPS, RESTAURANTS, AND HOTELS KNOWING THAT THEIR TAX MONIES ARE GOING TO A LOCAL GOVERNMENT WHICH VIEWS THEM AND THEIR HEROES WITH DISDAIN.
JOIN US AT THE COMMUNITY
SAVE OUR FLAGS RALLY
Thursday, Sept. 1st - 6pm
HOPKIN'S GREEN - LEXINGTON
(Gates open at 5:30 pm with music and free food)
BRING YOUR FLAGS AND SHOW YOUR SUPPORT FOR KEEPING OUR HISTORICAL FLAGS AND OUR COLLEGE FLAGS UP FOR SPECIAL EVENTS IN DOWNTOWN LEXINGTON!!!! GUEST SPEAKERS WILL GIVE INFORMATIVE AND UPLIFTING SPEECHES.
FOLLOWING THE RALLY, ATTENDEES ARE ENCOURAGED TO SPEAK AGAINST THE FLAG ORDINANCE AT THE CITY COUNCIL'S PUBLIC HEARING AT 8PM.
FREE HOTDOGS WILL BE SERVED BY DIXIE MOBILE CATERING
MUSIC COURTESY OF THE MAURY RIVER BLUEGRASS BAND
DOWNLOAD AN EVENT FLYER : CLICK HERE
HOPKINS GREEN IS LOCATED AT THE INTERSECTION OF JEFFERSON ST. (RT. 11 BUS. SOUTH) AND NELSON ST. (RT. 60) [USE 100 W. NELSON ST. LEXINGTON VIRGINIA FOR YOUR MAPPING ADDRESS]
LEXINGTON CITY COUNCIL MEETS AT THE ROCKBRIDGE COUNTY GOVERNMENT BUILDING LOCATED AT 150 SOUTH MAIN STREET IN LEXINGTON. PARKING IS AVAILABLE IN THE MUNICIPAL PARKING LOT BEHIND THE BUILDING OFF RANDOLPH
HON. H.K. EDGERTON - southernheritage411.com
HON. ROBERT E. BARBOUR, SR. - COMMANDER, FINCASTLE RIFLES SCV #1326
JOHN VINSON - MEMBER, THE STONEWALL BRIGADE #1296