#union cavalry

[cavalrycommand1876]

Patrol Under Fire by Don Spaulding

[brandonraykirk]

Poem: "Old Abraham" (1996)

Old Abraham: Historic Sycamore Tree in #Barboursville #WV #Appalachia #poets #poetry #writing #history #wvhistory #CivilWar

[szkin-art]

NPC portraits for the Lancer game I'm playing in~

[revoltedstates]

George Keats Speed was born 9 Feb. 1846 in Louisville, KY. He joined the Union Army at age 15, becoming a lieutenant at age 16 in the 1st Kentucky Cavalry. He also served as adjutant and captain in the same unit, and worked on the staffs of Maj. Gen. Charles Gilbert and Maj. Gen. Gordon Granger. Image source: LOC. Info source: Findagrave.

[aunti-christ-ine]

[sometimeslondon]

The Household Cavalry Museum in Westminster with a union jack flag

[roscoe-conkling]

"So it came to pass that as he trudged from the place of blood and wrath his soul changed." ...Stephen Crane, The Red Badge of Courage

[pattern-53-enfield]

"Songs of the Years of Fire", 1971, Dir. Inessa Kovalevskaya

[vulturesouls]

Union Cavalry officer, Philadelphia, 1860s

J Paul Getty Museum

[obtener2]

Mid-June 1863, the U.S. capital became desperate for additional defenders. An ominous rumble sounded beyond the Blue Ridge. Perilous gunfire could not be dismissed as rebel guerrillas, who hovered in small squads across the Potomac. Startling reports created panic. Rumors contradicted one another, except for one consistent theme—General Lee marched north. A Family and Nation Under Fire

iBooks https://goo.gl/SAVc8A

nook https://goo.gl/DSQXGu

Amazon: https://goo.gl/A3brGd

KSU Press http://goo.gl/Z3z4Xs

[cavalrycommand1876]

Union Cavalry Saber Charge

[froody]

Imagine you hired an obscenely drunk Union soldier in a saloon to kill your husband. He manages to accomplish the deed by removing the bullets from your husband’s gun through a sleight of hand trick before challenging him to a duel. This is somewhat impressive but what is more impressive is his strong work ethic, ingenuity, Irish accent, subtle chivalry and big brown eyes. You marry him and move onto the 15 acres of semi-arid land on the edge of the Chihuahuan Desert he stubbornly wants to farm. He wants to name your firstborn daughter after his cavalry horse in the Civil War and your firstborn son after his commanding officer. He calls you widow woman as a term of endearment. He’s a good shot, he’s a good cattleman, a great husband and a subpar father. But what else can you ask from a man who lost his entire family in the Famine and came to this country alone at the age of 14?

Imagine you are a former Union soldier. You are 22 years old. You were only 19 when you enlisted, an Irish immigrant who worked in a livery stable in Cleveland until the outbreak of the war. You fought valiantly. You survived. In lieu of wages, you accepted a parcel of land in New Mexico territory. You’ve never had anything that was truly your own. Except for, perhaps, your horse. You arrive in New Mexico for the first time in your uniform, your horse goes lame the second you step onto your parcel, it’s so dry and rocky and red and you do not think it’s arable. You have to put down your horse. She dies with her head in your lap and you cry so hard you think you’ll die with her. When you’re done giving her a wake, knowing you have no ability to bury her, you begin walking in the direction of Las Cruces. Maybe you can sell this cursed land. Maybe you can get a job. First, a toast to Lula, the mare, the closest thing to family you have had in this country.

You’re seeing double by the time a little woman with an appraising expression approaches you. She is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, perhaps even better in double. A little older than you. Long, dark wavy hair that cascades over her shoulders, a perfect round face, a warm brown complexion and the most troubled eyes you have ever seen on a woman. What is most miraculous is that she wants to talk to you. You, drunk, sunburnt, covered in dust, the blood of your horse soaked into your pant leg. She motions to your pistol. She says she will pay you to do a job, pay you handsomely, enough to buy another horse. She says her husband is rich, he enticed her away from her family when she was very young, he holds her captive in his hacienda, he hurts her. He must be killed so that she can return to her sisters and live without fear. You will do it, you must do it. You do not care how much of the story is factual. You do not care if she intends to have the sheriff string you up after the deed is done. You do not care if she cannot pay the money she promised. You would do anything to remove the sorrow from her eyes. You kill her husband and sleep fine afterwards.

You do not buy that horse. You stay in the hacienda while she is out selling the bits and pieces of her husband’s life. You meet her sisters when they come, you help her pack away the pieces of her life so that she may start anew. You tell her of your own plans to start anew, of the patch of rocky soil that is your own. She tells you she grew up on land like that, tells you that it has always been her dream to work it. When her sisters leave for the mountains, she leaves with you.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“Russian Calvary on Parade,” Chicago Tribune. February 17, 1933. Page 2. ---- Russian cavalry, part of the mighty Soviet war machine, on parade in Moscow during recent maneuvres. The Red army consists of 650,000 conscripts, but officials say they can put a force of several million held in short order.

[revoltedstates]

Soldiers of Co. H, 3rd Indiana Cavalry, smoking cigars and holding bouquets. Lookout Mountain, Tennessee. Detail from a larger company photo, Library of Congress.

[vox-anglosphere]

During the Great War the entire British Empire was called to arms.

[blindedguilt]

⚪🔴🖤✋

Verseday! Questions for my muse - Lukhege 1.3||Soldier of the Union ⚪ - What are small things that mean something to your muse

Growing up, doing each other's hair was always a somewhat intimate gesture reserved for the closest of friends and family. His village had been tight-knit, and having a mother and older brother (Occasionally, his younger brothers as well) always there to fix it when it was a mess left him truly blind to just how uncommon it was after being left on his own. Perhaps it takes him by surprise not just to be shown such kindness in a time of war so intense it seems that the very world has reached its end - Not to mention being in the front lines of it, nonetheless - But that the very action serves as a somewhat bittersweet gateway to those memories to those simpler days living with his brothers, as well. For his memories and his upbringing, it was an act of great affection and significance - And regardless of how much of that old life he's left behind, the perception of that intimacy won't so easily leave his mind.

... Another thing, though he wouldn't quite so easily admit to it as the last, is small gestures of psychical touch. Something like a hand or a pat to the shoulder, even if made casually, has a habit of lingering in the soldier's mind for an especially long time. To any outsiders, especially those who know of his upbringing, the answer why is clear enough - Though Lukhege himself had and could never put a finger on it... Even if he allowed himself to acknowledge it, to begin with.

🔴 - What are bigger gestures that are important to your muse Polishing any equipment of his such as weapons or swords, or taking the time to help or complete any chores in his stead takes a lot of work and time, and Lukhege is well aware of this. Typically, favours done for him helps him to feel far more adjusted within his "Family", as he sometimes prefers to call it, and serve as a great alternative to his warming in contrast to any deeper conversations or attempts to "get to know him" that would otherwise count as a great gesture... Chatting about his past, or even generally deeper topics, is a quick turn-down for him. To feel validated and supported in his efforts through those favours, however, to feel as if he truly is being cared for and counted among others, comes nothing short of a great reassurance for him.

🖤 - Can your muse be selfish? If he knows he can get away with it. It isn't necessarily that Lukhege hates being selfless towards others (Whether out of comradery, respect, and an overall agreement with their views or in trying to prove himself or in worser cases, an attempt to get on their better side to avoid any negativity or harm directed his way in the future) as much as it is him simply living off instinct - It is a world where every man must fend for themselves, and having been tasked with the responsibility of his two younger siblings atop his chores as the eldest cared for the dragons, Lukhege fights with each opportunity to take what he can for himself - As long as the eyes of others are off his actions when he does deign to think for himself, that's all he needs. With those outside the Union, such as civilians, however - He doesn't mind acting to serve his own self-interests at all.

✋ - Can your muse be rude or unfriendly? Perhaps some could consider Lukhege's briskness and straightforward attitude uninviting, particularly when in the midst of a task or training, though he's learned well enough not to say anything outwardly demeaning or rude towards his fellow soldiers - While not the brightest or most inviting, Lukhege still follows basic courtesy and small-talk when approached, taking care never to state many disagreements or other such things that can otherwise put him on thin ice. To a majority of civilians, however, while generally just a bit more curt unless otherwise provoked, he's developed a bit of a bad habit of using force or even harming civilians - Or anyone else "below" him, as a soldier of the Union - Simply when he feels like it. While not aware of it himself, it very well may be some internal attempt to take back power for himself after spending so many years, especially as a child, stuck under the Union's thumb - Simply inflicting the pain he had been caused in his past onto others.