CASEY JONES

I had a book about a choo choo train, the engineer was Casey Jones. Obviously, I was a very little girl. In my father's home town of Straitsville, when my parents visited friends and family, lots of family. They always talked about Casey Jones. These adults were talking about my story book.

Years later in Frankfurt, Germany, I was the Community PSNCO, we were closing down the military in Frankfurt, I was all over the place. I spent about a week I was working in an office, I don't remember why, it was a busy time.

There was a retired soldier, married to a German, working as a civilian government employee. He was around ten years older than me. We found we were both from Ohio. He was born and raised in a little town called Straitsville.

WOW! I told him my maiden name. From that point on we were talking about memories of South Eastern Ohio. He said, "Of course, you know who Casey Jones was."

That's when I found out all those adults weren't talking about my story book, they were talking about a real person. Casey was a well-known philanthropist in the area.

Many more years, I am on ancestry looking up my family history, in and around Straitsville, Perry County, Ohio. Yes, I am writing a book, as well. In every city, town, and village, in the USA, you will find people named Jones. I need help.

I found a John, David, George, Clayton, and Joseph Jones. All of them have the middle initial, C. Talk about dead ends. Three were coal miners, one of them a mule driver. A mule driver took the wagon down in the mines where it was filled with coal then he drove it back. Crossed him off my list.

The other two listed as coal miners also were crossed off. David and John look like they may have been rich enough to be the famed Casey Jones.

HELP

I put this on my face book which has numerous relatives I never met but can trace back to my grandparents or in some cases my great grandparents.

Anyone who has ever been to Straitsville, Ohio, maybe for the annual Moonshine Fest, or perhaps you have ancestors from that area, which means you are likely related to me in some form.

If you know anything about this Casey Jones please let me know.

EASTER SUNDAY

This is the week I usually do a political rant. Trump is still ugly, but he got ISIS attention. Korea hopefully has taken a step back to reconsider their threats. He does one thing right then does dumb over and over. That bomb could have done a lot of good for us, but then Trump's ego got in the way.

I decided on a joke, but couldn't find one. One thing I hope isn't a joke, it looks like my 5^th great grandchild is going to be a girl. Finally, hopefully. If it's another boy, well, it's another player on the family football team, but I sure hope this one is a cheer-leader.

Kathy, my dear friend of over sixty years came through, she sent me the ideal message for Easter. Enjoy.

Jesus once said that even a simple act of kindness is never forgotten.  He also said that those failing to exercise kindness will also be remembered …... 

 

You can never do an act of kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will become too late. 

 

Time is free, but it is priceless.  You can't own it, but you can use it.  You can't keep it, but you can spend it.  Once you've lost it, you can never get it back.  Be sure that those you love are made aware of that fact -- daily.  One day soon you may not be able to remind them .... ever again.

 

In the final analysis, the only thing humans have of value is time itself.  As the Creator, God already owns all things, so time is the only thing of value we can offer to Him, serving wherever and however He sees fit. 

 

The majority of God's servants will live out their lives serving quietly, unnoticed in the background, because everything He has made has a purpose, a reason for existing. 

 

Don't think too much.  You'll create a problem that wasn't even there in the first place, along with an awful headache.

 

Before a man speaks it is always safe to assume that he is a fool.  After he speaks, it is seldom necessary to assume it.

 

Nothing will work unless you do.

 

Thank God tears are colorless.  If they were different colors for different feelings, our pillows would reveal the private thoughts of our hearts during the night.  

 

Success is how high you bounce after you hit bottom.

 

Never demand perfection of imperfect people, because there are none on earth at this time, and you are guaranteed to become disappointed with them.   

 

Humans are creatures quickly impressed by mere appearances, forming quick opinions of other people or things they do not understand.   Undoubtedly this is why Satan's efforts to lead people away from the Truth involves something or someone appealing to the power of the eye. 

 

Warning: Going to sleep on Sunday will cause Monday.

 

If a man has done his best, what else is there?

 

In prayer, it is better to have a heart without words than words without a heart.

 

Remember that the most valuable antiques are old friends.

 

Too many professed Christians today are no longer fishers of men but content with being keepers of the aquarium.

 

For all his sophistication, man owes his existence to 4 inches of topsoil and the fact that God makes it rain.

 

I am not afraid of storms, I am doing my best to learn how to 'sail my ship'...  

 

Over my shoulder, one last backward glance: Success during this life is like the words to the song, `I will sail my vessel till the river runs dry'.

I believe there are a few people out there who haven't read Umbrella on the Floor yet. Here are the first couple pages. Enjoy

I'm sitting in a window seat, in the last row on a Boeing 767, handcuffed to the man next to me. We aren't supposed to be on this plane because it's a contract plane. Which means it is a commercial airline that the government has contracted to fly military and their families to and from overseas assignments. This flight is nonstop from Frankfurt, Germany to Philadelphia, PA. 

My name is Karen Gallagher. For the next ten days, I am a Warrant Officer in the United States Army, assigned to the Criminal Investigation Division. This assignment is sort of a parting gift from my Colonel. I used all of my leave, over the past few months, after my parents were in a car accident. My mother stills needs me, so I made the hardest choice of my life, I resigned from the Army.

This mission is taking me to the states close to my end date. The Colonel gave me the assignment because it will get me home a few days early. 

Walt, my partner, mentor, and longtime friend is sitting in the aisle seat. He is also handcuffed to the man in the middle. Master Sergeant Walt Walters is in his forties and well over six-feet tall.  The rest of him looks like Mr. T. with an Army haircut.

He volunteered for the assignment. We have partnered several times, beginning with when I was a Private. This is the first time we've worked together since I became a Warrant Officer and out rank Walt. It should be interesting.  

The man in the middle is James Edward Blackburn, a convicted murderer. Walt and I are escorting him to the United States Penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Blackburn faced a Court Marshall in Heidelberg, Germany where he was found guilty of first degree, premeditated murder. He is sentenced to life without the possibility of parole.  

We were scheduled to be the only passengers on an Air Force carrier flight from Frankfurt to the Dover Air Station. The plane was grounded for repairs at the last minute. Under the circumstance the powers that be decided we needed to depart on the next plane flying.

Here we are on a contract flight with kids in nearly every row. Instead of landing on a small military installation, we will land at a large international airport.

Walt and I are both nervous about all the civilians on this plane.

Usually, I love the hustle and bustle of the Philly airport, but the idea of getting through the crowds, with a prisoner, is not making me smile.

The sun will be going down when we land. Walt and I will drive our prisoner to Dover, Delaware in a rental car that should be waiting for us when we arrive. Tomorrow morning we will board an Air Force flight, to Scott Air Force Base, Illinois. Military Police from Fort Leavenworth will meet our flight and drive us the final hundred miles to the penitentiary.

 Walt has a white pullover sweater laid across the handcuff attaching him to Blackburn. On my side, I have a new burgundy sweater masking my cuff.      

Blackburn is staring straight ahead. He's been this way since we took custody of him at Rhine-Maine Air Base this morning.

The flight attendant comes by to get our dinner order. Blackburn doesn't acknowledge her; his eyes are wide open, still staring straight ahead.

Walt moves his index finger between himself and Blackburn as he says, "We'll have the chicken breast with mixed greens."

I lean forward and tell the attendant that I'll have the same.

When our dinners arrive, Walt removes his handcuffs and discreetly slips them down in the seat beside him. This frees up Blackburn's right hand so both he and Walt can eat. Blackburn picks at his food until Walt says, "You got two minutes before I put the cuffs back on. Officer Gallagher can eat."

Blackburn abruptly pulls his hand away from his tray.

Walt finishes eating, then puts the cuffs back on Blackburn. I go through the same procedure, to free up my hand. Blackburn is still staring straight ahead at the back of the chair in front of him.  

Once the food is cleared, the movie comes on. It's some new sci-fi. I prefer a good whodunit, so I lay my head against the window and close my eyes. My body is contorted because of my attachment to Blackburn. If I turn in his direction and fall asleep, my head might fall over on his shoulder or worse, his lap.

"Turn around. I'll keep an eye on you," Walt says in a low voice.

After turning in Blackburn's direction, I take a long look at him and wonder what he's thinking behind those staring eyes. How can he keep staring at nothing? He reminds me of the Beefeater Guards I saw in London. People wave their hands in front of their faces and yell, "Are you in there?" Like the guards, Blackburn's eyes are fixed straight ahead. I doubt tickling him would work. A smile crosses my face. If I slowly slid my hand down and unzip his pants, would that make him blink?

 

I'm sitting in a window seat, in the last row on a Boeing 767, handcuffed to the man next to me. We aren't supposed to be on this plane because it's a contract plane. Which means it is a commercial airline that the government has contracted to fly military and their families to and from overseas assignments. This flight is nonstop from Frankfurt, Germany to Philadelphia, PA. 

My name is Karen Gallagher. For the next ten days, I am a Warrant Officer in the United States Army, assigned to the Criminal Investigation Division. This assignment is sort of a parting gift from my Colonel. I used all of my leave, over the past few months, after my parents were in a car accident. My mother stills needs me, so I made the hardest choice of my life, I resigned from the Army.

This mission is taking me to the states close to my end date. The Colonel gave me the assignment because it will get me home a few days early. 

Walt, my partner, mentor, and longtime friend is sitting in the aisle seat. He is also handcuffed to the man in the middle. Master Sergeant Walt Walters is in his forties and well over six-feet tall.  The rest of him looks like Mr. T. with an Army haircut.

He volunteered for the assignment. We have partnered several times, beginning with when I was a Private. This is the first time we've worked together since I became a Warrant Officer and out rank Walt. It should be interesting.  

The man in the middle is James Edward Blackburn, a convicted murderer. Walt and I are escorting him to the United States Penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Blackburn faced a Court Marshall in Heidelberg, Germany where he was found guilty of first degree, premeditated murder. He is sentenced to life without the possibility of parole.  

We were scheduled to be the only passengers on an Air Force carrier flight from Frankfurt to the Dover Air Station. The plane was grounded for repairs at the last minute. Under the circumstance the powers that be decided we needed to depart on the next plane flying.

Here we are on a contract flight with kids in nearly every row. Instead of landing on a small military installation, we will land at a large international airport.

Walt and I are both nervous about all the civilians on this plane.

Usually, I love the hustle and bustle of the Philly airport, but the idea of getting through the crowds, with a prisoner, is not making me smile.

The sun will be going down when we land. Walt and I will drive our prisoner to Dover, Delaware in a rental car that should be waiting for us when we arrive. Tomorrow morning we will board an Air Force flight, to Scott Air Force Base, Illinois. Military Police from Fort Leavenworth will meet our flight and drive us the final hundred miles to the penitentiary.

 Walt has a white pullover sweater laid across the handcuff attaching him to Blackburn. On my side, I have a new burgundy sweater masking my cuff.      

Blackburn is staring straight ahead. He's been this way since we took custody of him at Rhine-Maine Air Base this morning.

The flight attendant comes by to get our dinner order. Blackburn doesn't acknowledge her; his eyes are wide open, still staring straight ahead.

Walt moves his index finger between himself and Blackburn as he says, "We'll have the chicken breast with mixed greens."

I lean forward and tell the attendant that I'll have the same.

When our dinners arrive, Walt removes his handcuffs and discreetly slips them down in the seat beside him. This frees up Blackburn's right hand so both he and Walt can eat. Blackburn picks at his food until Walt says, "You got two minutes before I put the cuffs back on. Officer Gallagher can eat."

Blackburn abruptly pulls his hand away from his tray.

Walt finishes eating, then puts the cuffs back on Blackburn. I go through the same procedure, to free up my hand. Blackburn is still staring straight ahead at the back of the chair in front of him.  

Once the food is cleared, the movie comes on. It's some new sci-fi. I prefer a good whodunit, so I lay my head against the window and close my eyes. My body is contorted because of my attachment to Blackburn. If I turn in his direction and fall asleep, my head might fall over on his shoulder or worse, his lap.

"Turn around. I'll keep an eye on you," Walt says in a low voice.

After turning in Blackburn's direction, I take a long look at him and wonder what he's thinking behind those staring eyes. How can he keep staring at nothing? He reminds me of the Beefeater Guards I saw in London. People wave their hands in front of their faces and yell, "Are you in there?" Like the guards, Blackburn's eyes are fixed straight ahead. I doubt tickling him would work. A smile crosses my face. If I slowly slid my hand down and unzip his pants, would that make him blink?

 

I'm sitting in a window seat, in the last row on a Boeing 767, handcuffed to the man next to me. We aren't supposed to be on this plane because it's a contract plane. Which means it is a commercial airline that the government has contracted to fly military and their families to and from overseas assignments. This flight is nonstop from Frankfurt, Germany to Philadelphia, PA. 

My name is Karen Gallagher. For the next ten days, I am a Warrant Officer in the United States Army, assigned to the Criminal Investigation Division. This assignment is sort of a parting gift from my Colonel. I used all of my leave, over the past few months, after my parents were in a car accident. My mother stills needs me, so I made the hardest choice of my life, I resigned from the Army.

This mission is taking me to the states close to my end date. The Colonel gave me the assignment because it will get me home a few days early. 

Walt, my partner, mentor, and longtime friend is sitting in the aisle seat. He is also handcuffed to the man in the middle. Master Sergeant Walt Walters is in his forties and well over six-feet tall.  The rest of him looks like Mr. T. with an Army haircut.

He volunteered for the assignment. We have partnered several times, beginning with when I was a Private. This is the first time we've worked together since I became a Warrant Officer and out rank Walt. It should be interesting.  

The man in the middle is James Edward Blackburn, a convicted murderer. Walt and I are escorting him to the United States Penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Blackburn faced a Court Marshall in Heidelberg, Germany where he was found guilty of first degree, premeditated murder. He is sentenced to life without the possibility of parole.  

We were scheduled to be the only passengers on an Air Force carrier flight from Frankfurt to the Dover Air Station. The plane was grounded for repairs at the last minute. Under the circumstance the powers that be decided we needed to depart on the next plane flying.

Here we are on a contract flight with kids in nearly every row. Instead of landing on a small military installation, we will land at a large international airport.

Walt and I are both nervous about all the civilians on this plane.

Usually, I love the hustle and bustle of the Philly airport, but the idea of getting through the crowds, with a prisoner, is not making me smile.

The sun will be going down when we land. Walt and I will drive our prisoner to Dover, Delaware in a rental car that should be waiting for us when we arrive. Tomorrow morning we will board an Air Force flight, to Scott Air Force Base, Illinois. Military Police from Fort Leavenworth will meet our flight and drive us the final hundred miles to the penitentiary.

 Walt has a white pullover sweater laid across the handcuff attaching him to Blackburn. On my side, I have a new burgundy sweater masking my cuff.      

Blackburn is staring straight ahead. He's been this way since we took custody of him at Rhine-Maine Air Base this morning.

The flight attendant comes by to get our dinner order. Blackburn doesn't acknowledge her; his eyes are wide open, still staring straight ahead.

Walt moves his index finger between himself and Blackburn as he says, "We'll have the chicken breast with mixed greens."

I lean forward and tell the attendant that I'll have the same.

When our dinners arrive, Walt removes his handcuffs and discreetly slips them down in the seat beside him. This frees up Blackburn's right hand so both he and Walt can eat. Blackburn picks at his food until Walt says, "You got two minutes before I put the cuffs back on. Officer Gallagher can eat."

Blackburn abruptly pulls his hand away from his tray.

Walt finishes eating, then puts the cuffs back on Blackburn. I go through the same procedure, to free up my hand. Blackburn is still staring straight ahead at the back of the chair in front of him.  

Once the food is cleared, the movie comes on. It's some new sci-fi. I prefer a good whodunit, so I lay my head against the window and close my eyes. My body is contorted because of my attachment to Blackburn. If I turn in his direction and fall asleep, my head might fall over on his shoulder or worse, his lap.

"Turn around. I'll keep an eye on you," Walt says in a low voice.

After turning in Blackburn's direction, I take a long look at him and wonder what he's thinking behind those staring eyes. How can he keep staring at nothing? He reminds me of the Beefeater Guards I saw in London. People wave their hands in front of their faces and yell, "Are you in there?" Like the guards, Blackburn's eyes are fixed straight ahead. I doubt tickling him would work. A smile crosses my face. If I slowly slid my hand down and unzip his pants, would that make him blink?

 

AGING GRACEFULLY

. I changed my car horn to gunshot sounds. People move out of the way much faster now!

2. I didn't make it to the gym today. That makes five years in a row.

3. I decided to stop calling the bathroom the John and renamed it the Jim. I feel so much better saying I went to the Jim this morning.

4. Last year I joined a support group for procrastinators. We haven't met yet.

5. I don't need anger management. I just need people to stop irritating me!

6. When I was a child I thought nap time was a punishment. Now, as a grown up, it feels like a mini vacation.

7. My people skills are just fine. It's my tolerance of idiots that needs working on.

8. If God wanted me to touch my toes, he would've put them on my knees.

9. The kids text me "plz" which is shorter than please. I text back "no" which is shorter than "yes."

10. I'm going to retire and live off of my savings. Not sure what I'll do the second week.

11. Even duct tape can't fix stupid ... but it can muffle the sound!

12. Why do I have to press one for English when you're just gonna transfer me to someone I can't understand anyway?

13. Of course I talk to myself, sometimes I need expert advice.

 

 

. I changed my car horn to gunshot sounds. People move out of the way much faster now!

2. I didn't make it to the gym today. That makes five years in a row.

3. I decided to stop calling the bathroom the John and renamed it the Jim. I feel so much better saying I went to the Jim this morning.

4. Last year I joined a support group for procrastinators. We haven't met yet.

5. I don't need anger management. I just need people to stop irritating me!

6. When I was a child I thought nap time was a punishment. Now, as a grown up, it feels like a mini vacation.

7. My people skills are just fine. It's my tolerance of idiots that needs working on.

8. If God wanted me to touch my toes, he would've put them on my knees.

9. The kids text me "plz" which is shorter than please. I text back "no" which is shorter than "yes."

10. I'm going to retire and live off of my savings. Not sure what I'll do the second week.

11. Even duct tape can't fix stupid ... but it can muffle the sound!

12. Why do I have to press one for English when you're just gonna transfer me to someone I can't understand anyway?

13. Of course I talk to myself, sometimes I need expert advice.

. I changed my car horn to gunshot sounds. People move out of the way much faster now!

2. I didn't make it to the gym today. That makes five years in a row.

3. I decided to stop calling the bathroom the John and renamed it the Jim. I feel so much better saying I went to the Jim this morning.

4. Last year I joined a support group for procrastinators. We haven't met yet.

5. I don't need anger management. I just need people to stop irritating me!

6. When I was a child I thought nap time was a punishment. Now, as a grown up, it feels like a mini vacation.

7. My people skills are just fine. It's my tolerance of idiots that needs working on.

8. If God wanted me to touch my toes, he would've put them on my knees.

9. The kids text me "plz" which is shorter than please. I text back "no" which is shorter than "yes."

10. I'm going to retire and live off of my savings. Not sure what I'll do the second week.

11. Even duct tape can't fix stupid ... but it can muffle the sound!

12. Why do I have to press one for English when you're just gonna transfer me to someone I can't understand anyway?

13. Of course I talk to myself, sometimes I need expert advice.

 

 

 

 

Call or email your Congressman, Republican or Democrat

We don't need an ego trip, we need health care. Obama is the first legislation towards catching up with the rest of the industrial world.

 It's still a baby, that needs changed annually.

We have a start, we don't need to waste time replacing it every time there is someone new in the Oval Office who wants the credit.    

We have a health care plan, look at it every year and make changes (corrections) needed. I keep saying this will need to continue for

at least a decade before we get it right, not counting the years the changes made don't work the way congress thought it would.

This isn't Democrat or Republican, it isn't Obama or Trump. It's still our country, politicians need to work together, which is only going to

happen is if the Americans, (If you aren't registered to vote, you can either let your neighbors make decisions for you or register, it's

easy)  call your congressman, when they find that regardless of party, the people are asking for the same thing.

Our government is in a mess, the only people who can fix it are We The People.

 

Trump Again Sorry not good with computers, This is less than one page, but somehow I made it repeat several times

A friend wants to buy a new car. I mentioned Honda. She said she didn't like buying foreign cars. I responded, "they're made in Kentucky." "Yes, but they get the money." I don't care if a few people who already have more money than they can spend, get more, what I care about is a thousand Americans earning a steady pay check to support their families, which helps support the grocery store, gas station, you get the idea.  

A while back Trump claimed Chancellor Angela Merkel ruined Germany by allowing a million refugees into the country. Merkel allowed a million people in because Germany needed workers. It's like Mexican's coming to our country and picking crops. Jobs Americans won't do.

Trump's ranting has stopped many people from crossing the border. Good people who will pick our crops. If crops rot on the vines because there aren't enough pickers, the price of the crops that do get picked will go sky high.  In a few months when prices at the grocery store begin rising, blame it on Trump.

Trump's kids told him they need crop pickers from south of the border to pick the grapes in Trump's wine business. 

The drug dealers will continue to cross despite Trump's rants, his wall, or more border patrols. There are millions in the drug trade and other illegal activities to be made. Trump should understand, it's business.   

The President of the United States doesn't have time to twitter. There are better uses of his time than claiming Obama wire tapped him. Who cares, why does he care? The election is over he won. Obama is out enjoying life, at least for the moment, it looks like he's done with politics.    

 

A friend wants to buy a new car. I mentioned Honda. She said she didn't like buying foreign cars. I responded, "they're made in Kentucky." "Yes, but they get the money." I don't care if a few people who already have more money than they can spend, get more, what I care about is a thousand Americans earning a steady pay check to support their families, which helps support the grocery store, gas station, you get the idea.  

A while back Trump claimed Chancellor Angela Merkel ruined Germany by allowing a million refugees into the country. Merkel allowed a million people in because Germany needed workers. It's like Mexican's coming to our country and picking crops. Jobs Americans won't do.

Trump's ranting has stopped many people from crossing the border. Good people who will pick our crops. If crops rot on the vines because there aren't enough pickers, the price of the crops that do get picked will go sky high.  In a few months when prices at the grocery store begin rising, blame it on Trump.

Trump's kids told him they need crop pickers from south of the border to pick the grapes in Trump's wine business. 

The drug dealers will continue to cross despite Trump's rants, his wall, or more border patrols. There are millions in the drug trade and other illegal activities to be made. Trump should understand, it's business.   

The President of the United States doesn't have time to twitter. There are better uses of his time than claiming Obama wire tapped him. Who cares, why does he care? The election is over he won. Obama is out enjoying life, at least for the moment, it looks like he's done with politics.    

 

A friend wants to buy a new car. I mentioned Honda. She said she didn't like buying foreign cars. I responded, "they're made in Kentucky." "Yes, but they get the money." I don't care if a few people who already have more money than they can spend, get more, what I care about is a thousand Americans earning a steady pay check to support their families, which helps support the grocery store, gas station, you get the idea.  

A while back Trump claimed Chancellor Angela Merkel ruined Germany by allowing a million refugees into the country. Merkel allowed a million people in because Germany needed workers. It's like Mexican's coming to our country and picking crops. Jobs Americans won't do.

Trump's ranting has stopped many people from crossing the border. Good people who will pick our crops. If crops rot on the vines because there aren't enough pickers, the price of the crops that do get picked will go sky high.  In a few months when prices at the grocery store begin rising, blame it on Trump.

Trump's kids told him they need crop pickers from south of the border to pick the grapes in Trump's wine business. 

The drug dealers will continue to cross despite Trump's rants, his wall, or more border patrols. There are millions in the drug trade and other illegal activities to be made. Trump should understand, it's business.   

The President of the United States doesn't have time to twitter. There are better uses of his time than claiming Obama wire tapped him. Who cares, why does he care? The election is over he won. Obama is out enjoying life, at least for the moment, it looks like he's done with politics.    

 

Research to write a historical fiction book

I'm researching as preparation for writing a Historical Fiction. The following is the historical part. Fiction comes later when I give the characters a voice.

The first research I shared was the family trying to cross the Ohio river with the intension of settling there. However, the Indians weren't happy about these want-a-be intruders. To keep them out the Indians crossed the Ohio into Virginia (today's West Virginia) and murdered as many as they could. 

This research is about the Civil War and five brothers who fought. I put more detail on my face book because the story is about my family. Thanks to face book and ancestry there are around three hundred cousins reading my face book.

My next research will be in the early 1900's about coal miners, unions, strikes, strike breakers, and the fire that broke the strike.

The Civil War was from April 12, 1861 to May 9, 1865

Thomas joined the Union Army first, but only stayed three months. I can only assume he was wounded, he wasn't killed because he died an old man in 1910.  Christopher served in Co D, 31^st Ohio Infantry from Feb 14, 1864 until 10 Nov 1864. His brother Henry joined him on May 2, 1864. James and Thomas soon followed. 

They didn't join because it was their duty as Americans, nor did they fight to free the slaves. None of them had ever seen a black person. If you ask them what a slave was they would say it was like going down into a dark coal mine six days a week for a stingy coal company.

The war was a long way from Perry County, Ohio. The citizens knew little about the war. It was three years into the war before they found out for sure the country was at war. Being so far away, no one feared the fighting would ever get anywhere near them.

On 3 March 1863, the United States Congress (the North) began a draft. Finding able bodied men to draft in the cities wasn't hard, it was places referred to as the backwoods that caused a problem.

In the 1860's you couldn't check the phone book. Phones hadn't been invented. Cars wouldn't be invented until two or three decades after the war. Besides no driver's license. There were no social security numbers, because it didn't come along until the 1930's.

Babies were born at home, if the courthouse was less than a day's buggy ride the parents likely made the trip to fill out a birth certificate.  

The Department of the Army, Congress, and President Lincoln figured out they had a problem. They couldn't draft only city men. The answer was, when a man's draft number was drawn they could pay someone else to go in your place.

I don't know where $300 came from, but it became the going rate. To our boys, in Perry County, Ohio, it was more than a year's pay. I assume they also drew the Army pay of $11 to $13 a month. If they lasted a year, the pay plus the $300 would equal nearly 2 years pay.

Men who someone paid to go in their place were call Pay Soldiers. Christopher was the first Pay Soldier in his family. I'm sure his brothers were as well. There was no other reason for any of them to go to war except for the money. In the mines, they were making nearly twenty dollars a month.  

If you live or spend any time in the south, you will find Civil War reenactments everywhere. Should you ask one of the actors about Yankee Pay Soldiers, they will tell you that these men would sign the enlistment papers, collect the $300, go AWOL. Then go to a recruiting office in another town and get another $300. 

I'm sure there were con men like the Confederates describe, but of the 2,100,000 soldiers who actually served 42,000 were drafted, while 126,000 were pay soldiers.

Christopher served from Feb. 14, 1864 to Nov. 10, 1864. He saw action at Kenesaw Mountain GA, Peach Tree Creek, GA, Atlanta, Chickamauga, GA. In short, his regiment was following Sherman to the sea.

James was hard to sort out. He was in the 63^rd, 89^th, as well as the 31^st Regiment. I've listed Christopher's actions in the 31^st. James must have taken part in some if not all the same battles.

There seems to be a time when the Army didn't know where James was. A ringing in the back of my head says he took Christopher home. It makes sense, it's a long walk from Georgia to Ohio, a hard walk if you are wounded.  

That ringing tells me Christopher was shot in the hip, leaving him with a lifelong limp. What I know for sure is he took three volleys in his left shoulder. Most of the south was using the 1853 Enfield Musket which fired mini balls.

An Enfield Musket would kill you if it hit you in the right place. Christopher's step-daughter, who also became his daughter-in-law, only referred to him as Mean Man or Old Mean Man. That plus other things I've learned about him, I believe Christopher got his wounds dressed, then started walking back to Ohio.

I am only using one Regiment, for the following. All other regiments have pretty much the same numbers. The 62^nd Regiment reported 113 men killed in action while 131 were killed by disease.  

Years later, Christopher's grandson liked sitting on his lap, putting his little fingers in the three holes left by the mini balls that wounded him. True story, because that grandson grew up to be my father.  

Henry was in Company E, 155^th Regiment, Ohio, Infantry. His was also one of the Regiments following Sherman to the sea.

That leaves Thomas J. I have no information including a date of death, leaving the possibility that he was killed. I did find a Jacob, same last name in the 197^th Inf., leaving me to wonder if the J in Thomas J stood for Jacob. A lot of people go by their middle name. The family name is Slatzer, ever since the first of the family landed on these shores in the 1700's the spelling of their name has been mangled.