#snodgrass hill

[briefbestiary]

Be it ghost, beast, living stone tiger monument, or otherwise supernatural being, Old Green Eyes is said to have first been spotted wandering amongst the corpses of the dead just after the Battle of Chickamauga. Interestingly, some versions dress up the humanoid version in a gentlemanly garb and eating the bodies of the dead.

[adiluteddream]

"Family Heirlooms"

Photo by J.B. Snodgrass / @adiluteddream | Nikon D7100 | Center Hill, MS | 2024

Please don't repost to other sites

[67-romeo]

Richard Rowland Kirkland, known as "The Angel of Marye's Heights", (August 1843 – September 20, 1863) was a Confederate soldier during the War for Southern Independence, noted for his bravery and the story of his humanitarian actions during the Battle of Fredericksburg. Kirkland was born in Flat Rock, South Carolina, in Kershaw County. He was the fifth son of Mary and John Kirkland. He received a moderate education during his youth, as was typical during that era. Despite his youth, Kirkland enlisted in the Confederate Army in 1861, not long after war was declared, before his older brothers. He was first assigned to Company E, 2nd South Carolina Volunteer Infantry, but was later transferred to Company G of the same regiment, and was promoted to sergeant. He first saw action during the First Battle of Bull Run (First Manassas), and later in the Battle of Savage's Station, Battle for Maryland Heights and Battle of Antietam, during which time many of his closest friends from Kershaw County were killed. On December 13, 1862, Kirkland's unit had formed at the stone wall at the base of "Marye's Heights" near Fredericksburg, Virginia. In the action that followed, he and his unit inflicted heavy casualties on the Union attackers. On the night of December 13, walking wounded made their way to the field hospital while those who were disabled were forced to remain on the battlefield. The morning of December 14 revealed that over 8,000 Union soldiers had been shot in front of the stone wall at Marye's Heights. Many of those remaining on the battlefield were still alive, but suffering terribly from their wounds and a lack of water. Soldiers from both sides were forced to listen to the painful cries of the wounded for hours, with neither side daring to venture out for fear of being shot by the enemy. At some point during the day, Kirkland allegedly approached Confederate Brig. Gen. Joseph B. Kershaw, also from Kershaw County, South Carolina, and informed him that he wished to help the wounded Union soldiers. By Kershaw's own account, at first he denied the request, but later he relented. However, when Kirkland asked if he could show a white handkerchief, General Kershaw stated he could not do that. Kirkland responded "All right, sir, I'll take my chances." Kirkland gathered all the canteens he could carry, filled them with water, then ventured out onto the battlefield. He ventured back and forth several times, giving the wounded Union soldiers water, warm clothing, and blankets. Soldiers from both the Union and Confederate armies watched as he performed his task, but no one fired a shot. General Kershaw later stated that he observed Kirkland for more than an hour and a half. At first, it was thought that the Union would open fire, which would result in the Confederacy returning fire, resulting in Kirkland being caught in a crossfire. However, within a very short time, it became obvious to both sides as to what Kirkland was doing, and according to Kershaw cries for water erupted all over the battlefield from wounded soldiers. Kirkland did not stop until he had helped every wounded soldier (Confederate and Federal) on the Confederate end of the battlefield. Sergeant Kirkland's actions remain a legend in Fredericksburg to this day. Kirkland went on to fight in both the Battle of Chancellorsville and the Battle of Gettysburg where, after further distinguishing himself for courage and ability, he was promoted to lieutenant. On September 20, 1863, he and two other men took command of a charge near "Snodgrass Hill" during the Battle of Chickamauga. Realizing they had advanced too far forward of their own unit, they attempted to return and Kirkland was shot. His last words were, "I'm done for... save yourselves and please tell my Pa I died right."

[mecthology]

The Legend of Old Green Eyes.

Chickamauga Battlefield, often referred to as the "Gettysburg of Georgia," is a site deeply etched in the annals of American history. This historic location, where nearly 40,000 soldiers lost their lives during a bloody Civil War battle, is now the setting for one of the most haunting legends in the South.Among the swirling mists and shadows that blanket the battlefield, a mysterious and terrifying figure is said to roam: "Old Green Eyes."

The true nature of Old Green Eyes remains shrouded in mystery. Some believe it to be the restless spirit of a Confederate soldier who lost his head during the battle, wandering the grounds in search of his missing body. Others claim the creature is something far older and more sinister, perhaps rooted in Native American folklore as a half-man, half-beast protector of sacred ground. Psychic Mark Fults even suggests that Green Eyes predates the Civil War, connected to ancient mound builder worship practices.

The earliest reports of Old Green Eyes date back to the Civil War itself, where it was said to have been seen among the corpses near Snodgrass Hill, a particularly haunted area of the Chickamauga National Park. Over the years, various accounts have surfaced, including a notable incident in 1976 when park ranger Edward Tinney claimed to have seen the creature, describing its glowing eyes and long hair.

Despite the skepticism that surrounds such tales, numerous encounters have been reported. These sightings have kept the legend alive, contributing to the eerie allure of the battlefield. Some say the creature transforms the surroundings into a hellish landscape filled with smoke, fire, and the anguished cries of fallen soldiers.

Follow @mecthology for more horror stories and lores.

Source: astonishinglegends.com

[manwalksintobar]

The Flying Eagles of Troop 62  // James Wright

           Ralph Neal was the Scoutmaster. He was still a young man. He liked us.

           I have no doubt he knew perfectly well we were each of us masturbating unhappily in secret caves and shores.

           The soul of patience, he waited while we smirked behind each other's backs, mocking and parodying the Scout Law, trying to imitate the oratorical rotundities of Winston Churchill in a Southern Ohio accent:

           "Ay scout is trusswortha, loll, hailpful, frenly, curtchuss, kand, abaydent, chairful, thrifta, dapraved, clane, and letcherass."

           Ralph Neal knew all about the pain of the aching stones in our twelve-year-old groins, the lava swollen halfway between our peckers and our nuts that were still green and sour as half-ripe apples two full months before the football season began.

           Socrates loved his friend the traitor Alcibiades for his beauty and for what he might become.

           I think Ralph Neal loved us for our scrawniness, our acne, our fear; but mostly for his knowledge of what would probably become of us. He was not a fool. He knew he would never himself get out of that slime hole of a river valley, and maybe he didn't want to. The Vedantas illustrate the most sublime of ethical ideals by describing a saint who, having endured through a thousand lives every half-assed mistake and unendurable suffering possible from birth to death, refused at the last minute to enter Nirvana because he realized that his scruffy dog, suppurating at the nostrils and half mad with rabies, could not accompany him into perfect peace.

           Some of us wanted to get out, and some of us wanted to and didn't.

           The last I heard, Dickey Beck, a three-time loser at housebreaking, was doing life at the State Pen in Columbus.

           The last I heard, Dale Headley was driving one of those milk trucks where the driver has to stand up all day and rattle his spine over the jagged street-bricks.

           The last I heard from my brother-in-law, Hub Snodgrass was still dragging himself home every evening down by the river to shine, shower, shave, and spend a good hour still trying to scrape the Laughlin steel dust out of his pale skin. He never tanned much, he just burned or stayed out of the river.

           The last I heard, Mike Kottelos was making book in Wheeling.

           I have never gone back there down home to see Ralph Neal. My portrait hangs on one of the walls of the Martins Ferry Public Library. Ralph Neal would think I've become something. And no doubt I have, though I don't know just what. Scribbling my name in books. Christ have mercy on me alive; and after I'm dead, as Pietro Aretino of Florence requested of the priest after he had received extreme unction on his deathbed, "Now that I've been oiled, keep me from the rats."

           When I think of Ralph Neal's name, I feel some kind of ice breaking open in me. I feel a garfish escaping into a hill spring where the crawdads burrow down to the pure bottom in hot weather to get the cool. I feel a rush of long fondness for that good man Ralph Neal, that good man who knew us dreadful and utterly vulnerable little bastards better than we knew ourselves, who took care of us better than we took care of ourselves, and who loved us, I reckon, because he knew damned well what would become of most of us, and it sure did, and he knew it, and he loved us anyway. The very name of America often makes me sick, and yet Ralph Neal was an American. The country is enough to drive you crazy.

[sidewalkstamps]

Norman F. Barber General Contractor Los Angeles (Photo taken by Rachel Hughes on April 14, 2024 around Downtown Los Angeles)

In 1912, Norman designed a garage and stable for Richardson, Holmes & Lamb Co., which was constructed by Barber-Bradley Const Co. I'm guessing Barber was the Barber in that company. In the same year, Barber was one of two architects for a concrete store and loft building in downtown Los Angeles for Alexander Meyer, again built by Barber-Bradley. Barber-Bradley were located at 1824 East 15th St. (Southwest Contractor and Manufacturer, Volume 10, Engineers and Architects Association of Southern California, 1912 and Engineering News, Volume 69, McGraw-Hill Publishing Company, 1913). In 1909 they were located at 212 W. 3d. (Engineering World: A Weekly Technical Journal of Civil, Mechanical, Electrical, mining and Architectural Engineering and Construction, Volume 5, Engineering World Publishing Company, 1907 and Brown, Charles Carroll. Directory of American Cement Industries, Municipal Engineering, 1909). They filed for incorporation on August 1, 1906 in Los Angeles (pg. 36, Annual Report of the Secretary of State, California Secretary of State, California State Printing Office, 1908). By 1907, they were already working on some big projects, like "erecting a manufacturing plant at 2620 Lacy St." for Talbert-Whitmore Co. (Engineering World, March 29, 1907).

In the 1913 Los Angeles City Directory, Barber is listed as a draftsman who lived at 4342 S Flower (Los Angeles Directory Co., Inc., accessed via LAPL).

In 1917, Barber-Bradley was "awarded the general contract ... for the erection of a brick and concrete school building at West Vernon and Olive Sts. in accordance with plans and specifications by Archt. W.C. Pennell." This year also has the only bid I see Barber-Bradley lost! They were not selected to build the "training quarters and bleachers at the new Los Angeles High School site" Some other projects from this year: remodeling the Eisner & Co. store in the Hayward Hotel building, including all work except for tile flooring and including but not limited to "plate and prism glass and marble fronts, mahogany finish and fixtures;" "repairing the fire damage to the 1-story brick warehouse on San Fernando St., opposite the Southern Pacific freight depot, for the Union Warehouse Company; "fitting up a room at 330 S. Main St. for a barber ship (sic);" erecting a brick and concrete school building on the 24th St. school site; and "alterations to Miller's Theatre at Ninth and Main Sts" such as adding a store room adjoining the lobby and a women's bathroom (Southwest Builder and Contractor, Volume 50, F. W. Dodge Company, 1917).

In 1919, Norman was a 'member' of Geo. F. Barber, Sons & Co, a general contracting business located at 4342 S. Flower St. The other member was George F. Barber, which I am guessing was his father (Southwest Builder and Contractor, F.W. Dodge Company, 1919).

Barber lost a bid to build Inglewood's new city hall building to W. M. Bell (Building and Engineering News, Volume 23, Issue 1, 1923) .

Norman F. Barber was the original owner and contractor of the 2-storey single residence at 2615 N. Commonwealth Avenue (Los Feliz Improvement Association Historical Residential Survey 3rd Edition Volume IV: Streets Beginning with Cl to Cu, Los Feliz Improvement Association, 2019).

There was a Norman F. Barber who wrote "Directional recording of swell from distant storms" with Walter H. Munk, Gaylor R. Miller, and Frank E. Snodgrass, as listed in Scripps Institution of Oceanography Contributions Index Vols. 1-39, 1938-1969.

In 1938, "approximately 25 tons of asbestos per month [were] mined from the Canadian mine, located near Chrysotile, Arizona, under the direction of Norman F. Barber, lessee, Box 1010, Globe, Arizona" by four men. The property was owned by the Globe-Los Angeles Mining Company (The Mining Journal for July 15, 1938).

Norman supervised the construction "of 100 unites for Marble Manor Housing, a Public Housing Authority project in Las Vegas, Nev." (Western Construction, Volume 27, King Publications, 1952).

[noneofthisisreal]

snodgrass hill in chickamauga national battlefield?

[blizz4rd1203]

The rebels were, uh yelling, their voices loud and shrill. But they couldn't drive George Thomas from the top of Snodgrass hill.

Well you see, the cannonballs were dancing an The rifles played up too. Rosecrans was, uh, running. Like the cow that jumped the moon.

[oaesiir-beloved-of-heaven]

Major General George Thomas & his staff on Snodgrass Hill during a crucial moment in the Battle of Chickamauga by Dale Gallon.

[cc-rockit]

Okay, so I wanna talk about Juneteenth real quick!

Don’t know what Juneteenth is? Understandable! I had no idea what it was until a few days ago, my mom is super happy because she gets a day off, she thought that it was day Slaves were freed.

And she was partially correct, actually it’s in celebration of a federal order given by this guy with an epic beard.

This is Major General George Granger, an Army Officer and Union general who is most well known for his work during the Battle of Chickamauga, it was the first major conflict of the war fought in Georgia, sadly, the Confederates won the first battle, but as we all know, they lost the war, Granger was commanding the reserves and during the second day of battle he reinforced the struggling XIV Corps on Snodgrass Hill against the confederates, he wasn’t ordered to, he determined that they couldn’t hold back the enemy force by themselves, so he sent two brigades under his command to assist the XIV Corps, this action kept the confederates back until dark, which then allowed Federal forces to retreat in good order helping Major General George H Thomas earn his nickname, the “Rock of Chickamauge”, which THEN led to a later battle where Thomas earned his next nickname, “Sledge of Nashville” in the Battle of Nashville where he fought the Army of Nashville, effectively deafeating them due to a rather embarrassing strategical error made by General John Bell Hood, who wasn’t even that good of a General, he seemed to favor fighting his enemy head on, which resulted in the death of about 23.500 of his 38.000 troops. (I love reading about warfare, many of my family members are military, sue me...besides, we don’t talk about Union soldiers enough in my opinion, you always hear the orchestra of whining whenever a bunch of people yank down a confederate soldier statue, but you never hear people talk about Union soldiers that much.)

Anywaaaay! Now that I’ve gotten through all the boring stuff, Juneteenth marks the day in 1865, the civil war has been effectively over since April, since the defeat of the Confederate states, and the Emancipation Proclamation had formally freed slaves two and a half years earlier, Texas was extremely remote and doing it’s best to hold onto their own slaves, there was also an extremely low presence of Union Soldiers, the enforcement of the proclamation was slow and inconsistent, Major General Granger was assigned to a Command in Texas on June 19th, 1865, Yes, Major General Granger, on his first day of work at his new post, declared that, Yes, as a member of the Union, you WILL follow the Emancipation Proclamation, you WILL free your slaves from the chains of bondage, and that, Yes, the former slaves have the same absolute rights of equality and property as everyone else.

TL:DR: Major General Granger shows up to command the district of Texas, and on his first day, he informs the ENTIRE state of Texas that they have to follow the law, because this is a country of freemen and all men are equal under the constitution of the United States, and it truly, honestly marked the end of legal slavery, the day was then celebrated year after year in Texas, known sometimes as Jubilee Day, Liberation Day and Emancipation Day.

Make this a national holiday, America, do it.

[mybeingthere]

DeLoss McGraw is an American artist known for his whimsical gouache paintings. 

Inspired by his own poetry as well as poems by W.D. Snodgrass.  Born in 1945 in Okemah, OK, he went on study at the Otis Art Institute in Los Angeles and received his MFA from the Cranbrook Academy of Art in 1973. McGraw lives and works between Los Angeles, CA and Okemah, OK. Today, his works are in the collections of The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, the Cranbrook Museum of Art in Bloomfield Hills, MI, and the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., among others.

[tipsywench]

So I recently learned there’s a cryptid called Old Green Eyes that some civil war soldiers claimed they saw on the battlefield at Chickamauga (near Snodgrass Hill), eating the dead and being creepy and shit and yknow what...depending on how the rest of 2020 goes I am 100% ready to give up on life and go track down old green eyes and hang out with her and I dont know we can chill in the old battlefield and set up a drive thru theater type thing and watch old movies or civil war docs and she can tell me which soldiers were her favorite to eat because maybe cryptids just need a friend and I am ready to be their friend, I don’t have anything else going on in my life

[earthstory]

Sailing across the desert...

Glancing through our database I realised with a shock that we had never covered one of New Mexico's most iconic geological monuments, the volcanic remnant known as Ship Rock. I shared an aerial photo to reveal the surrounding geology, and a side one showing its graceful lines. Seeming to float above the heat haze, it records the explosive eruption some 27 million years back of an unusual kind of water rich volcanic rock that rose from the mantle called a lamprophyre (kimberlite and lamproite, magmas that carry diamonds up from the mantle are a part of this complex family).

The main hill, known in the Navajo tongue as Tse Bitai (winged rock) is 482 metres high, and 500 in diameter, providing a powerful contrast to the surrounding flat landscape, evidencing the fact that the volcanic rock is more resistant to erosion than the surrounding sedimentary sandstone and shale. Known as a volcanic neck, it is the remnant of a carrot shaped pipe that spat lava out of the mantle at speed, fracturing itself on the way up to form a breccia (a broken up rock with angular fragments or clasts, in this case autogenerated as the pressure released on the way up).

The lamprophyre clan is very complex, with many hazy and different lines drawn between its members, it may be that each eruption is unique, recording the heterogeneous mantle conditions in which the small degree of partial melting that produced the magma occurred. Ship Rock is made of a potassium rich member, known as minette. Erosion has removed the surface expression of the eruption, and the part of the pipe visible now is thought to have been around a kilometre down when the volcanic plumbing system froze.

Surrounding the ship are a half a dozen dark dykes, sheets of magma that were part of the eruption, possible the feeder system or the lava penetrating through surrounding weak points fractured by the explosive force. These dykes are the more usual expression of lamprophyres, and while no one knows where the connection lies, their presence as swarms are often associated with regional gold mineralisation. The rock is part of a volcanic field extending through the area that include El Capitan in Monument Valley.

The monument is sacred to the Navajo Nation and sits on their lands near the four corners region of the southwest, in the centre of the region occupied by the Pueblo People. The Navajo name comes from the legend of the great bird that bought their people southwards, and it is supposedly the first place in which they dwelt in their new home region. Legend states that many of the people were cut off on top when lightning destroyed the path, died there, and haunt it to this day (a not impossible proposition, recent research shows that lightning can help shape entire mountain ranges, seehttp://on.fb.me/1AQ1Chv). For this reason climbing it is forbidden. The English one comes from its obvious resemblance to a sailing vessel.

I studied one of these weird rocks as one of the samples for my thesis, and in the scope they appear amazing, with all sorts of chewed up crystals partly transformed into something else. As they rise and the pressure releases, the water comes out and starts to transform the mantle minerals such as olivine into surface ones such as micas (giving them their glinty surface appearance). In short, the rock sort of reverse autometamorphoses on the way up, as the usual metamorphic influence of growing deep crustal heat and pressure is inverted at speed. When these changes happen more slowly, the transformation is minimal, as many mantle minerals are metastable in surface conditions, ie they last for awhile before they chemically weather into something else.

Loz

Image credit: aerial photo Weather Underground, side snap Bowie Snodgrass http://lapahie.com/shiprock_peak.cfm https://geoinfo.nmt.edu/tour/landmarks/shiprock/home.html http://pubs.usgs.gov/gip/volc/structures.html

[waltersartmuseum]

Art of the Day: Aryballos in the Form of a Helmeted Head

During the Archaic period in particular (although later examples are attested), wine, oil, or perfume containers were given the shape of a human head or more rarely of a human body part or a whole body. The presence of heads of divinities (such as Dionysos and satyrs), of heroes, such as Herakles, or of ordinary women and men reflected the vessel's content and function (Beazley 1929, 38-9). This type of vase, which held perfumed oils, is called "plastic" because it was formed of soft clay using a mold. This example takes the shape of a helmeted warrior's head. The warrior is represented in his maturity, as the presence of a mustache suggests. His wide-open eyes stare out from under his head covering, the Ionian helmet. This type of helmet is not attested in any source other than numerous series of warrior-head vases. Its noteworthy characteristics are the metopon- the semicircular band over the forehead- the separately made cheekpieces, and the unprotected area of the nose (Hill 1961, 45; Ducat 1966, 27-8; Snodgrass 1967, 65-6; Biers 1984/5, 2-3). Warrior head vases are of eastern Greek origin, possibly manufactured in Ephesus or Rhodes. The vessels were widely distributed in several areas of the Mediterranean (Ducat 1966, 26-7; Nicholls 1957, 304; Allentown 1979, 134, no. 64; Biers 1984/5, 5, n. 5). Their function is not known with certainty. Some scholars see them as ritual objects with funerary character- more specifically, as representations of deceased warriors; others posit that they were souvenirs (Maksimova 1927, 24; Hill 1961, 44; Ducat 1966, 28-9; Allentown 1979, 134, no. 64). Their widespread distribution suggests that they may have had different functions. An offering of this kind might emphasize the warrior qualities of the deceased, or it might imply the heroic character of his death. Learn more about this object in our art site: http://bit.ly/2PDI79u

[the-ablest-navigators]

A Locked House

BY W. D. SNODGRASS

As we drove back, crossing the hill,

The house still

Hidden in the trees, I always thought—

A fool’s fear—that it might have caught

Fire, someone could have broken in.

As if things must have been

Too good here. Still, we always found

It locked tight, safe and sound.

I mentioned that, once, as a joke;

No doubt we spoke

Of the absurdity

To fear some dour god’s jealousy

Of our good fortune. From the farm

Next door, our neighbors saw no harm

Came to the things we cared for here.

What did we have to fear?

Maybe I should have thought: all

Such things rot, fall—

Barns, houses, furniture.

We two are stronger than we were

Apart; we’ve grown

Together. Everything we own

Can burn; we know what counts—some such

Idea. We said as much.

We’d watched friends driven to betray;

Felt that love drained away

Some self they need.

We’d said love, like a growth, can feed

On hate we turn in and disguise;

We warned ourselves. That you might despise

Me—hate all we both loved best—

None of us ever guessed.

The house still stands, locked, as it stood

Untouched a good

Two years after you went.

Some things passed in the settlement;

Some things slipped away. Enough’s left

That I come back sometimes. The theft

And vandalism were our own.

Maybe we should have known.

(iPhone 8; Little Rock Locks; photo mine)