After reading the letters from the men, both officers and enlisting men, written to their families and friends, it is obvious that the building and garrisoning of Fort Duffield was not an easy task. When the Union army arrived, the site was all heavily wooded, with only a few scattered tenant farm homes located in the area.

There were two roads nearby which came southward out of West Point, on present day 6th Street, which forked at the foot of the hill where the 9th Michigan and 1st Wisconsin were camped. The Salt River veered to the left and circled around to the east of Pearman Hill. The old Court House Road, one of the oldest roads in the neighborhood, veered to the right and it too circled the hill to the southwest before starting a long steep climb to the top of the hill and then continued on past the newly-built Pleasant View Baptist Church, two miles to the south. This was the main farm road in the area. About a half mile to the west was the fairly new Louisville-Nashville Turnpike, a cobblestone road that led all the way to Nashville. About two miles south of the fort were roads that forked off the Court House Road, one road led to Leitchfield and the other to Hardinsburg.

After the woods had been cleared, the men built the fortification itself. In the meantime they had built from scratch a wagon road up the back side of the hill in order to get their wagons, mules and cannons to the fort. This is the same road that has been paved for present day access to the fort. The fort ran at different angles with the trenches being about 15 feet deep. Inside the breast works, the men were protected from small arms fire. Also inside the breast works were the headquarters of the Colonel and Lt. Col. Parkhurst, as well as the magazine. Then on the sloping hillside, there were places leveled out where the men built crude log cabins, or huts, to protect them from the bitter cold winter.

On the hillside near the lookout, commonly called Lovers Leap, was located the spring where the men secured their drinking water, or at least a portion of it. This is one of the most interesting places in the fort. Today, one can see the basin chipped out of the stone where the men formed a catch basin to get the water to fill their canteens. Likewise, they chiseled a small channel in the limestone to drain the water from the spring to the basin.

This spring, even today, never quits flowing. During the driest days of the summer, even in the years of a drought, you will see the same flow of water from the spring as you do in the wettest day of March. But even with this ever-flowing spring, that was not near enough water to supply the needs to Fort Duffield. There were around 1000 men in the fort, and some 5000 more backing them up at one time. And of course there were some 40 mules assigned to the regiment, plus whatever number of animals that were assigned to the other regiments and the cavalry units. So all of them together required a lot of water, much more than could be taken from the spring. The rest of the water came from the Ohio River, for cooking, washing and drinking. Using the river water, of course, led to much of the sickness suffered by the men.

During the winter of 1861, which was much colder than average, the 6000 men garrisoned at Fort Duffield and West Point and the nearby tent camps, suffered tremendously. In one of his written reports to the Michigan Adjutant General, Colonel Duffield stated that his regiment alone had 400 men in the hospital. The men had little or no shelter to protect them from the elements. Colonel Duffield begged for medical assistance and for permission to build log cabins as shelter for the men.

Finally, an order came from General Sherman’s headquarters: “Hut your men, but at no expense to the government.” With this order, Duffield and his men proceeded to build enough log cabins, or huts, to house the entire regiment. This work was completed by early 1861 and the health of the men improved rapidly. The lower privates hunkered down for the winter, or so they thought. But it wasn’t long before some of the units were sent further south.

The cabins, now called barracks, were later used by the 16th Kentucky Infantry, and later the 28th Kentucky Regiment until finally the federal troops were pulled out in early 1863. The barracks were on stand-by to house troops passing thru the area.

In the last year of the war — the summer of 1864 — numerous guerilla bands sprung up and created chaos all over Kentucky. Many of these bands were former Confederate soldiers, but even some Yankees joined their ranks. They formed units of around 20 or more men. The guerilla leaders in this area were Owen Garrett (or Jarrett) Ben Wigginton, Duposter, Straney, and a man known simply as One Arm Berry. On at least five occasions, the guerillas attacked and captured West Point. On July 8, 1863, the guerrillas took possession of West Point. They burned several houses, as well as the stream mill owned by Mrs. Julius Guthrie. The merchants in town who had sold to the Yankees were especially hard hit. After leaving the town, the guerrillas went up on Fort Hill and burned the cabins that had served as Union army barracks.

Fort Duffield was named by Col. William W. Duffield in honor of his father, the Rev. George Duffield, Jr. The events that preceded the naming of the fort for a minister, normally regarded as a man of peace, were unusual. In fact it indicates how some northern people may have seen the war as a more or less holy war, while others saw it as a battle over states rights, and still others as strictly an economic war.

One man who is often overlooked in the chain of command at Fort Duffield was Lt. Henry M. Duffield. Henry Duffield was always overshadowed by this much older brother, Col. William W. Duffield, who was in command at the post. Colonel Duffield, before the regiment left West Point, had been promoted to General Duffield. Lt. Duffield enlisted as the regimental adjutant and served in this position thru much of the regiment’s war service. He was only twenty years of age.

After the 9th Michigan left West Point, he served brilliantly at the Battle of Murfreesboro, in Tennessee. He was taken prisoner in that engagement, later exchanged. He was wounded in action at the Battle of Chickamauga, Georgia. He was discharged in late 1864 but over 30 years later enlisted in the army in the Spanish-American War and rose to the rank of General. Henry Duffield later became the author of a book on the lives and exploits of the men who won the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Lt. Henry Duffield

Looking at Fort Duffield from the South

Of all the documentation that has been located in regard to the activities of the troops at Fort Duffield, one of the most interesting was an account book belonging to Lt. Col. John Parkhurst. Sketched on the pages of this pocket-size ledger, was an outline map of the breastworks of the fort. It clearly shows the outline of the earthworks and each of the cannon emplacements. The ledger also showed the expenses paid out by the Colonel. As example, it indicates that he sent to his little daughter Kittie $10.00 and an equal amount to his sister who was caring for his two children. Also note that he paid $4.00 for a stove in early December, the night it reached 5 degrees below zero. On January 18, he paid $1.80 to a river captain. This $1.80 may possibly have been the “sound corn” referred to earlier in this text where a Captain Cobb delivered a boatload of “ladies” to West Point to “entertain” the homesick soldiers.

In May, 1862, Colonel William Duffield was placed in command of all Union troops in Kentucky. This was in addition to his being in command of the 23rd Brigade, consisting of four other regiments. As such, he was the commander of all the various regiments in the state, including those who were staging to join the combat troops in the south. He did not stay in this assignment long until he took his brigade to Tennessee just in time to take part in the Battle of Murfreesboro.

Colonel Duffield was severely wounded in this battle and never saw action again. He was left on the field to die but was carried to the home of Major Maney and survived. Major Maney was a veteran of the Mexican War. Colonel Duffield in later life, became a railroad construction engineer and was in charge of the construction of the Kentucky Central Railroad.

Pictured above is Mrs. Louise Bethune Duffield, the widow of Colonel, (later General) William Ward Duffield, the commander of the Union forces at West Point. Colonel Duffield and Mrs. Duffield are buried at the Arlington National Cemetery in Washington, D.C.

Mrs. Elizabeth Young Hays was the last Confederate widow who lived in West Point. She was born in 1844 and her husband was Hercules Hays, who served in the famed Kentucky Orphan Brigade. Mrs. Hays lived next door to the author of this book until her death in 1943. Across the street, lived Mrs. Florence McCoy Shane, the last Union widow. Her husband, Sgt. Charles Shane, served at Fort Duffield with the 28th Kentucky Infantry.

November 18, 1861

November 18, 1861 – A newspaper article, publication unknown – I notice by the Jackson papers that the ladies of Jackson have formed a society to aid the sick soldiers and I could not resist the temptation to thank them for their kind remembrance of the suffering and offering a few suggestions. Let me preface by telling you that our regiment is being most terribly scourged by sickness. On Nov. 7th we had over 300 men in the hospital, for we have only one tent to hold 12, but today we have at least 200 men unfit for duty. This is truly awful.

As to its cause it is the sudden change of climate, the very bad, muddy, actually putrid water of the rivers which we were compelled to drink, the change of living and the damp muddy clay of the river flats where we camped. The days are very warm and the nights damp and cold. In the morning hours, the thick fog rises from the river and is so dense as to nauseate the stomach and deprive us of our appetites. All this with… and fevers and diarrheas in their worst form.

(Authors Comment: The reader must picture in their mind typical November weather in West Point. How well does Capt. Deland describe it? Then picture in your mind that you were living in a tent, sleeping perhaps on the bare ground, drinking water directly out of the river, and the other inhumane conditions endured by the soldiers of the War Between the States, and then with the epidemic sweeping the camp and you might agree. There is nothing romantic about war or the life of an infantryman in any war).

Add to this the measles all through our camp and you can imagine what we have suffered in my own company. The sick in my company alone have numbered over 20 men a day for the past two weeks. Four deaths have taken place and there will probably be more within the next few weeks. We have secured three large houses in West Point for hospitals and are doing all that is possible to save the brave boys.

But word of advice to your business. Do not spend your time making woolen shirts or socks, we have plenty of them. Good blankets are needed and good pillows and bed ticks for the hospitals are badly needed, and they should be made together. The end should be gathered together at the end by a cord and should be made for a single cot. Drawers of flannel are needed. We have little or no use for pin cushions and “house wives” are plenty as blackberries. Give us things substantial and we will accept ornamentals when we return. Send anything to Col. Duffield, 9th Michigan, care General Quartermaster, Louisville-Hospital stores. Yours truly, Charles V. Deland, P.S. – Three more men died last night.

November 24, 1861

November 24, 1861 – Since my last letter affairs have improved but very little. Our new camp on the mountain (Fort Duffield) is a paradise to what we have enjoyed for the past four weeks, and pure air and water are showing their effect on the men almost daily. There is little doubt that the first few days we were here, Buckner (CSA General S.B. Buckner) had forces enough to crush us had they dared to attack us. But the tables are now turned and we feel as secure as young eagles in their nest.

As to our labors, we have now built about four miles of roads up and down almost perpendicular mountains and river banks, made a floating bridge over Salt River twenty roads long and nearly completed the best fort this side of the coast. The fort is between 200 and 300 feet above common water mark on the Ohio River and about one mile from the center channel. It is built with salient angles, and two radians which presents 18 points or fronts of defense against the enemy. The main trench is about 1800 feet in length, 12 feet wide and 9 feet deep, 15 feet thick at the bottom.

At either end, and on the verge of the rocky precipice (over 8 feet high) are two timber gates, with rifle pits for 300 infantrymen on the flanks. The fort will mount ten six pounders and six 18-pound guns and three howitzers and is calculated to hold 1300 infantry. When fully completed and well garrisoned, it will be impregnable against all enemies except famine. In front of the fort (southward) is a ravine heavily timbered, and full of springs. This timber is being felled for a mile or more beyond the mountain. The great beech, maple, cucumber, oak and cherry trees, when fallen, form a impenetrable mass which will be itself defy any approach from that direction and every gun in the fort will sweep the turnpike and rivers with shot and shell for three miles.

Our camp is now located on the (southern) slope of the mountain (Fort Hill) and outside of the fort and is very pleasant indeed. The ground descends about three feet in twenty and is thus drained perfectly. I can sit in my tent door and see all that goes on in my camp and far away the valley below. The Ohio River and hills rise in full sight and for two or three miles away and the little village is at our very feet. Steamboats look like little scows as they go puffing up and down the river.

The only trouble is that all the water we have has to be brought up the steep rocky banks about 150 feet. It bursts out of the rocks as pure as nectar, but once it runs ten yards on the clay it is yellow and nasty as you can imagine. Our regiment has suffered terrible from hard labor, exposure, poor living, and sickness. At one time, over 400 men were unfit for duty. On Oct. 25, there was not one man in my company sick. By Nov. 1st, there were 12; Nov. 6 there were 20, by Nov. 14, there were 24 and by Nov. 19 there were 21. Today we had 14 sick. Nearly all of our men have had measles.

We have several pretty sick men viz; Philettus Bacon, T.B. Knickerbocker, J.D. Edwards, Charles Snow, Joseph Stiles, and George Palmer. Dr. Smith thinks they are all gaining but two or three will probably be sent home. (Note-Pvt. Bacon, above, age 25, never again saw home. He died at the military hospital in West Point on Jan. 17, 1862 and was buried in the military cemetery at the tip of Muldraugh Hill.) On Friday we had another awful Kentucky rain. A gale blew all day and several tents were stripped. I think we shall winter here, and if we do, we will make a “log cabin village”. (Note-within a very few days, the regiment did build and go into log cabins on the slope of the hill.) Signed: Charles V. Deland.

Many times in the history of warfare, nurses have distinguished themselves for the humanitarian aid they have given to the sick and wounded soldiers, often under adverse conditions. During the construction and occupation of Fort Duffield in 1861, there was such a heroine here in West Point. When the northern army occupied West Point and made the small town its supply base for all the troops serving along the front lines between Louisville and Nashville, several Union regiments were based at Fort Duffield, with its huge earthworks on top of the hill overlooking the town.

November and December 1861 was certainly not a happy time for these newly conscripted men mostly from Michigan. They had been in the army only a few weeks, thus had no military training and they were poorly versed in the art of protecting themselves from the harsh, damp, cold winter in the Ohio Valley that they unexpectedly had to endure.

First housed in makeshift tents and even, in some cases, no shelter at all, they found themselves facing one of the most extreme cold spells ever known for this time of the year — temperatures fell to five degrees below zero, and a heavy snowfall blanketed the area. The 9th Michigan had barely arrived in West Point before disease and illness set in. First a measles epidemic swept like wildfire thru the camp, followed by dysentery and then pneumonia. Before it was over, according to the regimental history, 61 of its men were buried side by side on the parade ground at the end of the hill.

Colonel Duffield, commander of the troops, was distressed and desperate for help as he faced the rapidly deteriorating physical condition of his men. As early as November 7, 1861, he wrote to General Robertson and pleaded for medical assistance. The colonel wrote “our hospital contains over 300 men and I have taken possession of three houses in the town for use of hospitals. The patients increase on our hands. We are completely used up as far as drill is concerned by sick…we need a surgeon by all convenient speed. If you can spare us 100 men please let us have them. If Dr. Powers cannot come, send another.”

Even though many of the women in the town had husbands and sons away in the Confederate Army, they banded together as one to volunteer to nurse and assist in any way possible to make life, and death, easier for the sick Union soldiers.

Living just two doors up the street from one of the military hospitals was a wee wisp of a young lady, Malvina Hall, who became the heroine of West Point. Malvina went to Surgeon Cyrus Smith and volunteered her services. Dr. Smith appointed the untrained volunteer nurse, barely 21, as chief of the volunteer nurses, and she proceeded to work around the clock caring for the sick. A neighbor, Mrs. Ann Guthrie, and her daughter, Mrs. White, were also cited by the colonel for their work.

Malvina Hall so endeared herself to the troops that she became a legend and despite her young age, was respectfully known as “Miss Mallie”. Miss Mallie became so attached to the soldiers, most even younger than she, that she told her mother, Mrs. Eliza Hall, that should she be stricken with disease from her close contact with the sick soldiers and should she die, she wanted to be buried beside the troops on Fort Hill.

In the Crimean War, Florence Nightingale became a heroine to the dying soldiers. In West Point it was Miss Mallie. In 1895, when many of the former members of the 9th Michigan returned to West Point for a reunion, the first question many of them asked when they stepped off the train was “Where is Miss Mallie.” They were saddened to hear she had died of fever less than a year after the Michigan troops had departed.

Malvina Hall died November 22, 1862, shortly after General Don Carlos Buell passed by her house on the way to save Louisville from General Braxton Braggs’ advancing army. Despite her request, she was not buried beside the soldiers. Her mother had her buried in the Young family cemetery on the bank of Salt River, in what is known today as Founders Cemetery. Each year, on Memorial Day, members of the Sons of the Grand Army of the Republic hold a memorial service in her honor. (Malvina Hall at the time of her service had an uncle, Hercules Hays, who was serving in the Orphan Brigade of the Confederate Army. She had a brother, Orville Hall, who was serving in an Arkansas Regiment of the Confederate Army).

The newspaper articles that appeared in various publications shed a lot of light on some of the major events pertaining to Fort Duffield and also to its neighboring Kentucky community of West Point. When the Union troops first occupied the area at the Mouth of Salt River around October 1861, one of their first tasks was to build a pontoon bridge across the Salt River just above its mouth. Then just before the Michigan regiment was ordered south, headquarters of the Army of the Ohio based in Louisville ordered a large pontoon bridge to be built to expedite military traffic on the basic supply route between Louisville and Nashville along the turnpike.

March 1, 1862 – Detroit Tribune – Never since my enlistment in the 9th Michigan Infantry Regiment have the boys so taken hold of the drills and parades until the past few days. The weather here has been horrible, with rain and snow coming at the same time which causes our camp to be complete slosh and mud. Once in a while our boys turn out of their tents and log huts with an old Belgium rifle at shoulder, and take a hand at target practice under the command of Major D.M. Fox who informs us that if ever the enemy gets in the way of our Belgians, it is goodbye sescesh.

For the past two weeks we have seen nothing but soldiers and heard nothing but the steamers whistle from morning till night on the Ohio River waters conveying troops for some useful service, showing that something is going to be “did”. The late victories in Kentucky show that the brave boys of the north and west are ever ready to do service for the good old flag. It is understood that the 9th will be a part of General Mitchell’s division.

On Sunday evening last Major D.M. Fox, commanding the West Point post, received orders to build a bridge across Salt River at this point. On Monday morning he took a steamer and went up Salt River, purchased fifty thousand feet of lumber, and set every man of this detachment who was able, at work on it. At Wednesday noon, being only two days and a half from the time the order was received, the bridge was completed and the first government train passed over. That is the way the Mich. 9th works and the boys say they can fight just as well if afforded the opportunity. The exact measurement of the bridge is 650 feet in length, and a depth of 65 feet.

I have been informed that the next regiment to arrive in Louisville will relieve the 9th and we will move forward to Nashville. The major has informed us that after next week every soldier of the regiment will be recognized as a graduate of West Point. I apprehend that there will be no growling if that long looked for paymaster makes his appearance. We would be better satisfied in establishing ourselves in a new locality if we had a few dimes in our pockets and our children at home need bread and a soldier needs money to make him feel like a man. signed Shailer.

(Note: This was quite an engineering feat to build a bridge of this size in such a short time. This bridge became very useful to the Union army almost a year later when General Buell’s army was making its march into Louisville. His entire army used the bridge in crossing Salt River.)

Colonel George Hazzard was the commander of the 37th Indiana while it was stationed at Fort Duffield and West Point. A few weeks after they left West Point a bazaar event took place which was vividly described in The Cincinnati Commercial by their correspondent, “Jargo Nethlitl”, who was actually Chaplain John Lozier, of the 37th Indiana. Again this writer finds that it can be recorded better in the words of the men who served here in 1861-62, than it can be by a modern day writer.

Since my last letter we have moved southward to Bacon Creek. The incidents of that march, especially the inhuman way the sick were treated and those that fell by the wayside, has already been reported. Two of them sleep in their graves near Nebraska, Indiana. But I must skip over two weeks to the events of last Sunday. Paradoxical as it may appear this has been the saddest-happiest day since we have been in the service.

Sad in as much as the day dawned with three dead comrades, Addison Clendenning, of Company G; William LaForge, of Co. H; and John Parker, of Co. F. This fearful calamity was followed by another, more mysterious and alarming. At eight o’clock, Pvt. Washington Rysinger, of Company D, feeling slightly indisposed, went to the doctor for medicine. Returning to his quarters, he took a dose of it and in a few minutes fell over in a fit and died.

The body was speedily buried by order of the powers that “used to be” (Col. Hazzard), but will be disinterred in the morning by order of the brigade surgeon. This evening Pvt. H.P. Grinstead was unwell but still going about the camp. He took a dose of medicine from the surgeons prescription and dropped dead in a few minutes. I make no comment. At roll call this evening another soldier, Pvt. B.M. Mitchell, fell asleep in death making six men of the regiment that died in one day.

The happiness today consists of the fact we are at least temporarily relieved from the tyrannical rule of Col. George Hazzard. The circumstances of this are as follows: Yesterday the Brigade Surgeon sent out an order that our sick, who were crowded into four hospitals as the camp can afford, should be removed to Louisville, where they might be properly cared for. This order the Colonel and Dr. Anderson would not obey. This afternoon Dr. Blackman, chief surgeon, called to see why not.

Col. Hazzard told Blackman he had no authority to order his sick away and after further conversation said he’d “be d—d” if Blackman should take them away and threatened to throw Blackman out of the camp. Dr. Blackman left remarking that he would “take care of the sick, and the well too in this camp”. Going to an old log house about a mile from camp he found sixteen sick men crowded in one room which I heard him tell Dr. Anderson this was worst than the Black Hole of Calcutta. These men complained that they were not treated well.

Dr. Blackman returned to Hazzard’s tent in company with Dr. Muscroft and other physicians and was telling Dr. Anderson what he was thinking about the treatment of the sick when Col. Hazzard came out of his tent and seeing myself and about a dozen other men standing near, yelled “leave here, every damn one of you”. Not considering myself one of the “damn ones”, I very leisurely sauntered about, being anxious to hear things about our now crushed and dying men.

Dr. Blackburn turned to the colonel and said, “Colonel have you visited the house where those sick men are?” Hazzard replied “Doctor I will put you out of this camp damn quick” and turned and called for a file of the guard. The guard was slow in responding and the Colonel yelled again “Send a file of the guard here, then turned to me and said, “Go to your quarters under arrest”. Jargo then added “I’ll venture a guess that I am the first chaplain that has been put under arrest on a Sunday for manifesting sympathy for mistreated dying men in the history of the United States Army”.

After a few more words between Dr. Blackman and Dr. Anderson, Hazzard ordered the guard to take Dr. Blackman out of the camp which was immediately done. In about 15 minutes after Dr. Blackman disappeared, I heard a tremendous shout in camp, and looked out and saw General Turchin on horseback leaving Hazzard’s tent and taking away his sword and announcing that until Colonel Gazley returned to camp, the command would devolve to Major Hull. Whew, how the boys yelled. It was the first thrill of joy many of them had felt for many months.

An hour later General Mitchell and General Turchin came to camp. General Turchin and Col. Hazzard had conversation, and after he left, General Turchin left an order for my release from arrest.

Of course we do not know how this matter will end. It is probable that Hazzard will be court-martialed. One thing I do know, every officer in this regiment except three, who is not too sick to write their name, are united in petition for Hazzards removal and they will never submit to being put under his iron-heel again. We are willing to die for our country, but to be under the heel of a man who will say he’ll be “damed if his sick can lay upon the ground and rot” before they shall be moved for proper treatment. Under the heel of one who shouts, “I’ll be damn if I don’t wish they were all dead or discharged (Note: speaking of his sick men). signed by Jargo Nethlitl (Note: Better known as Chaplain Lozier).

Research into the history of Fort Duffield and the military activities at West Point continues to be fruitful as additional facts are uncovered. The documentation of the events of the fall of 1861 is amazing.

Recent research disclosed that a Cincinnati daily newspaper, “The Commercial”, had a war correspondent attached to the 37th Indiana, who sent dispatches back to his newspaper describing the conditions at Fort Duffield and the events that were occurring here in West Point. The reporter signed his dispatches “Jargo Nethlitz”. Actually, he was Chaplain John Lozier.

Jargo arrived at West Point in late October 1861 and suffered with the men as they fought the trials of army life, disease and homesickness. He also saw humor in the everyday little events that took place in the camp.

In one of the columns he tells of asking one of the slaves on the farm whether his master was a “sesesh” or not. The slave answered truthfully, “No, sir, not any more, He was this morning but he is a strong Unionist now”. Jargo then asked the slave why his owner changed so quickly. The slave answered, “when those troops arrived and those cannons arrived and shot off, Master quickly became a strong Union man.”

Not everyone became a turncoat so quickly. The Cincinnati reporter mentioned another time when an officer who had become quite friendly with a fair lady who lived about a mile from town and decided to take the regimental band while he went to call on the young lady. The band played popular music of the day while the officer visited inside. As they were leaving, the young lady requested one last song, “Let Us Have Peace”. The quality of peace she had in mind can be seen in the following stanza

“But if the war goes madly on
We’ll face the cannon’s mouth
Tis worse than vain for you to try
To subjugate the South”
    

Jargo readily described the fraternization that took place between the Union soldiers and the local citizens, especially “those with pretty daughters and fat chickens and turkeys”.

Those people today who complain that history is dull can sit up and take notice. Even our Civil War correspondent added color to his stories, much as tabloid news programs do today on television. In one of his columns, Jargo told of over 5000 men being stationed at West Point, a very tiny town. A resourceful river captain, Capt. Cobb, brought a boat load of women from New Albany and Louisville to “brighten up the men.” The women must have had exceptional features because Jargo described them as “sound corn.”

Today we have no idea what the arrangements were, but we can only wonder if this was how some of the river captains could afford those stately mansions which were built right after the Civil War in New Albany and other river towns. Jargo, real name Chaplain Lozier, went on south with the 37th Indiana and wrote of other aspects of army life. In one account, he describes a night when the temperature dropped to 5 degrees below zero. By that time he had become very adept at looking out for himself. He had learned how to roll into his blanket, which he had to share with his tent partner, and was able to keep himself fully covered while the good surgeon nearly froze.

You will recall it was in the fall of the year 1861 when General William T. Sherman’s troops arrived and turned the peaceful little village into an armed camp and supply base, with its accompanying fortress and the soldiers to defend it. The excitement continued through the winter until the Michigan regiment departed by steamboat for Nashville. Left behind to defend the fort was only a small unit of artillery.

In the early spring of 1862, elements of the 28th Kentucky Infantry reoccupied old Fort Duffield atop the hill overlooking West Point. In the meantime, the fort had been renamed Fort Blair, in honor of Austin Blair, Governor of Michigan. The 28th continued to hold the fort throughout the summer and early fall, but in mid-September elements of the 16th Kentucky, which had been guarding the bridge over Salt River at Shepherdsville, reinforced troops within the fort. West Point was still a supply for General Buell’s army which was, at that time, far to the south. Wagon trains from Tennessee would come here to pick up supplies for the Union forces.

General Buell’s army was licking its wounds after fighting several major battles around Nashville, with the largest part of the army in northern Alabama. Meanwhile, General Braxton Bragg, the Confederate commander, has a sizable army of around 30,000 men which had recently moved into middle Tennessee. On August 28th, Bragg’s army was on the move. General Buell, at Nashville, was uncertain of Bragg’s intentions. He felt that Bragg was intending to attack Nashville, but that was not true. It was not until the Confederate army had crossed into Kentucky and seized Glasgow that it occurred to him that his entire supply route was in jeopardy, and he was, in fact, cut off in Tennessee. It was apparent that Bragg and the rebels were intent to move on and capture Louisville. Another CSA army under Gen. Kirby Smith was already in Kentucky.

The rock-surfaced Louisville-Nashville Turnpike, of course, ran from West Point to Nashville and here was General Bragg’s Confederate Army coming right up the turnpike toward West Point. The only Union force between here and the rebels was a small Union garrison at Munfordville, which was defeated after a short battle.

Imagine how the 200-300 men, then within the earthworks at Fort Duffield, must have felt knowing they were all that stood between Louisville and the Confederate advance. In Tennessee, General Buell was in a quandary over what to do about the Confederate advance into Kentucky. Buell telegraphed his commander, General H.W. Hallack, for instructions, such as “Where shall I march?” Perhaps he wanted to cover his tracks, when he retreated back to the Ohio River. The curt reply from General Hallack was brief and simple. “March where you please provided you will find the enemy and fight him.”

Pictured above is the old Louisville-Nashville Turnpike showing a wagon going down Muldraugh Hill. The pike was built about 1839.

The decision to practically abandon all the territory that had been so hard won over the past year was a political decision for General Buell that would come back to haunt him later. There was no doubt that the move had to be made. Buell gathered his army of 45,000 men, leaving only 20,000 men to defend Nashville, and started a long force march up the Louisville-Nashville Turnpike in an attempt to reach Louisville first. But it was too late. Bragg was already on the turnpike headed directly for Elizabethtown, West Point, and Louisville. In Louisville, there were several green and untested regiments under the command of General “Bull” Nelson.

“We have arrived at West Point. Received your orders. The wagon train is moving rapidly toward Louisville, the first section should arrive tonight. The column is seventeen miles long, besides the cavalry brigade which reaches another mile. Our way has been very difficult. In accordance with your orders, as soon as the column crosses Salt River I will proceed with the cavalry to Shepherdsville to guard the railway bridges. I was in hopes we would be allowed to move on in to Louisville to give us a little more rest, as both man and beast is very much wore down from hard labor performed for four weeks now. We need time and opportunity to fit out the command.

At least one third of the men are now dismounted, the horses we have on hand having sore backs and given out from this long trip. They are all jaded and fatigued. We are without haversacks or canteens, many of the men are without clothing or shoes. We also need more horse equipment and all kinds of arms, as we had to turn in our equipment at Pittsburgh Landing, Tuscumbia and Nashville. We have a good many sick men left at Nashville and Corinth (Mississippi). A large number of our sick men have returned to the regiment and are without arms, horses, or equipment. We are in a rather bad shape after the long march. Another thing, my regiment has now seven months back pay due them, both officers and men need money very bad a many are family men and their families back home are nearly destitute. I myself am worn down from the rigors of the march. Our brigade equipment is badly in need of repairs. It is scattered God only knows where. Some of it is in Mississippi, some in Nashville, and the rest is scattered throughout this long wagon train. Each part has men and horse with it. Worst of all, my men need their overcoats badly. Theirs are stored at Tuscumbia. Nights are cold and damp and they suffer greatly.”

Lewis Zahm, Colonel
Commander, 2nd Cavalry

From the tone of the Colonel’s report, you can only imagine what the morale of the enlisted men must have been. Here these patriotic men were enduring every hardship and danger that could be imagined, while their wives and children were living in a destitute condition back home.

The main body of General Buell’s Army came marching into West Point on September 25th, and it took eight days for the entire army to cross Salt River. The little village was awash with over 40,000 soldiers, thousands of supply wagons and the broken down horses from the long march from the deep south. To top this off, there were six gun boats anchored out in the river, and supply boats tied up at the wharf unloading materials.

The men themselves were a pitiful sight, as Colonel Zahm so vividly described them — without food, only what could be scavenged from the woods and fields. They were indeed far from the portrait we see today in movies and television of a victorious Union Army in dress blue uniforms. According to official army records, several of the regiments were almost in mutiny when they reached West Point. In subsequent statements made by officers at the hearing on Buell’s campaign, several officers testified that there were several thousand soldiers deserted when the army reached West Point. However most of them were men from the southern tier of counties in Indiana, who took “French leave” to briefly visit their families and almost all of them rejoined the main army in Louisville a few days later. Often this was done with the full knowledge of the officers.

No one was happier to see the main army arrive in West Point than the little garrison at Fort Duffield. No longer were they just a small outpost facing the advance of a large army, but once again Fort Duffield had proven a deterrent to the rebel army, and the Louisville Journal described Fort Duffield as “the key to saving Louisville”.

General Don Carlos Buell arrived in West Point and after the long ordeal of the march from northern Alabama was not in the best of moods himself. Along the march, the General encountered a peddler about the campsite selling pies, not the delicious kind of pies our mothers make but an indigestible combination of flattened dough and woolly peaches, minus sugar, minus spice, minus everything that is good, any one of which the General swore would kill a hyena. “What do you charge for those pies?” he roared. “Fifty cents apiece,” replied the peddler. “Fifty cents apiece for such pies?” was the General’s reply.

With that Buell went into orbit. “Now you listen to me, you infernal swindling pirate, I want you to go to work and cram everyone of those pies down you just as quick as the Lord will let you and you had better be damn double quick, you villain.” Expostulations, appeals, and promises were of no avail, to “down” a half dozen of his own pies, all that he left. “Now”, said the general looking at the fellow after he had finished his unwanted meal. Buell blasted him again, “leave and if I ever catch you back here again swindling my men, I’ll hang you,” needless to say the man beat a hasty retreat.

When General Buell arrived in West Point, he, like his enlisted men, was hungry and travel-worn. He barged into the dining room at the hotel of Mrs. Ann Eliza McCoy, who at the time operated the old Young’s Tavern House, and in a terse and abrupt manner ordered, “I want fresh horses and food for 75 men and I want it damn double quick.” Mrs. McCoy, in a gentle and refined voice replied “As for horses, we have none. They have all been taken back in the hills. But for your meal, you will have it, but I don’t know how damn double quick it will be.” Some old timers around West Point used to vow that this was the only cuss word Mrs. McCoy ever uttered in her 93 years. With the help of her neighbors and servants, General Buell’s staff was fed. Buell later boarded a steamboat and left for Louisville. Many years later, on a business trip to Western Kentucky, General Buell stopped at the McCoy residence and personally apologized for his abrupt manners on the previous occasion.

The above sketch appeared in the Courier-Journal Sunday Magazine in 1949 and depicts Ann Eliza McCoy in her encounter with General Don C. Buell.

The day General Buell’s army passed by West Point, one of the soldiers in the column fell by the roadside and died. He was Pvt. Leonard Jones, of the 9th Kentucky Infantry. Jones was about 39 years old and was suffering with chronic diarrhea all the way on the long hard march from northern Alabama. He served as a Wagoner with his unit, and reportedly was from Monroe County, Kentucky. He was believed buried on the farm of Mrs. Jesse Young, just west of town.

Every war since the beginning of time has produced songs of conflict, where the young soldiers put to music their trials and tribulations. The War Between the States was no exception. Both Yank and Johnny Reb sang of the misery and hardship endured in camp and garrison duty. The soldiers of Fort Duffield were no exception.

Discovered recently in the archives of Michigan, was a song entitled The Soldiers Complaint’, written in 1861 by Pvt. John E. Richardson, of Co. F, 9th Michigan Infantry. The 24-year-old infantryman was one of the 900-plus men from his home state who helped to build Fort Duffield. As usual among privates in the infantry, he and his comrades found a lot to gripe about, especially under the harsh conditions of the time. The song tells a lot about the suffering and misery the soldiers were forced to endure. The first of twenty-nine verses in the song sets the scene. Some of those verses follow:

Come and listen kind of friends awhile to my song,
and I will unfold a tale of my wrongs,
of labor severe and likewise the swill,
endured by the soldiers on Muldraugh Hill.
    

Then verse after verse, sung to the tune of another civil war song, Hard Times, not to be confused with Stephen Foster’s song, leads you through various stages of the soldiers’ day-by-day activities. Private Richardson sang of having to rise to the bugle call at five in the morning, of making their beds of cornstalks, and having to trudge all the way from the fort to the riverbank in order to wash or bathe. As always, soldiers complain of their chow and the young Michigan conscript was no exception — constantly referring to the army chow as swill, defined by Webster’s Dictionary as “kitchen refuse fed to swine”. (In other words, army chow was garbage or just plain old slop.) Private Richardson ably describes one portion of his breakfast in song:

The first on the bill in age and in strength,
is a side of fat bacon full three feet in length,
with a crust on the surface to keep in the oil,
a plump inch in thickness of Kentucky soil,
then as to its age we are in the dark
but suppose it was smoked in the flues of the ark.
    

Continually berating the chow, the composer tells of crackers that were cut with a chisel and the coffee that was stewed in a dirty kettle, and other food that was not “fit for a dog to eat, but the poor soldier was expected to consider it a deuce of a treat.”

The Soldier’s Complaint was aimed mainly at the injustices dished out by the sergeant, plus the agony of “digging in the dirt” – digging the twenty foot deep trenches of Fort Duffield, and twenty-four hours of guard duty every three days. Still another complaint regarded the supplies offered by the sutler, who was the equivalent of today’s PX. The sutler, so the song says, was not interested in supplying the items desired by the men, but rather which item would make the biggest profit.

But the singing infantryman saved his most cutting and sarcastic complaints for the army field hospital, operating in the “mansion” over the way, one of three army hospitals operating in residences on Elm Street in West Point, where twenty sick men were billeted in one room, and the soldier complains that “no one knows how long it has been since it was graced by a broom.”

The sad song blamed much of the illness to the slop the men were fed, plus the inferior items of luxury offered by the sutler. But the final verse of the song offers sound advice.

“And now my dear friends, let me say in conclusion,
that soldiering is a most fatal illusion,
and if you’d be happy, respected and rich,
and just take my advise and keep out of that damn ditch”
    

Private John Richardson had a lot more to complain about than slop served to him as chow before the next year passed. He went on south with his regiment, was taken prisoner of war by the rebels in Tennessee and by early summer he was paroled, sent to Camp Chase, Ohio and was discharged in Columbus on August 9, 1862. He then returned to his native Springfield, Michigan.

As during other times of national distress, there are always some people who took advantage of the situation and attempted to profiteer from the war. One of these was a character well known throughout this section of Kentucky, the notorious Home Guard and federal agent by the name J.W. Jarrett (sometimes spelled Garrett). Seemingly, he had many well placed connections including to the inner circles of the White House and the War Department in Washington. He was much hated by many citizens of the commonwealth.

But Jarrett was not content to just perform his espionage and undercover work for the North. He developed a little scheme which resulted in great profit to himself and his little band of scalawags. As the war progressed and the front lines separating North and South moved further southward, Jarrett managed to secure a commission from the Federal Army to supply horses for the Union forces. Jarrett established his base of operations in West Point, a shipping port on the Ohio River. He and his men operated through all of central and western Kentucky.

His slick little scheme was to send buyers out through the rural areas of the state and through threats and subterfuge coerce the farmers to sell their prize horses to the Jarrett agents. The most common method was to approach a farmer and convince him that the Union military command had received information that the farmer had been aiding the Confederates, or perhaps it was suspicion that he was involved with the guerillas. It was then suggested that the safest thing for the farmer to do was to sell the horses to Jarrett’s men, thus protect the farmer’s investment and even his life. Then the farmer would be paid with counterfeit military scrip which proved valueless.

Needless to say, with the inflated value of horses at that time, Jarrett and his men had a good thing going and they were reaping tremendous profits from their sale of horses to the Union Army.

Jarrett’s method was to send his agents who numbered about fifty men, out in the state in groups of four to six. They would secure the horses and on a preset date drive all the horses to West Point, arriving in the wee hours of the morning. They would assemble the horses at a spot on the old L&N Turnpike in a gorge, just at the southeast city limits of the present West Point. About daylight they would drive their horses to the river to meet Union buyers who would take the horses down river to Evansville, where they would be turned over to the army, and the process would start all over again.

Meanwhile, in Tennessee, Confederate General John Hunt Morgan, himself a Kentuckian who always kept his ear to the ground, especially as to events in Kentucky, decided to act.

Rogues Fall Out

Louisville Journal – September 17, 1864

Owen Garrett (Jarrett), a notorious character, who has figured quite conspicuously in the guerrilla warfare in Kentucky, was killed at West Point on Thursday last, in an affray with two brothers named Wigginton, of Hardin County. Garrett’s lineage is decidedly bad. His father and his brother Crane are now confined in the Military Prison of this city, charged with bushwhacking.

Since the death of Deposter, the members of his band have had many old grudges to settle, and the bickerings and quarrels lead to deadly feuds. A deep enmity seems to have existed between the Garretts and the Wiggintons, but while Deposter lived, his influence was sufficient to prevent a rupture. His death removed this bar, and at a meeting taking place on Thursday, an outbreak could not be prevented, which resulted in a bloody affray.

The Wiggintons were victorious. Owen Garrett was killed, and his brother lies wounded. The latter, it is said, now lies in a critical condition at a house in Bullitt County. Both of the Wiggintons are reported wounded, but it is thought their injuries are light.

The outlaws formerly commanded by Deposter refuse to adopt a new leader, and the bitter hatred they bear each other promises to result in a war of extermination. The citizens have but little to fear from them now, as their entire time is spent watching each other.

The killing of Deposter by Hedge was an act promising to prove immensely beneficial to the country. The scoundrels of his gang are now like a pack of hungry, growling curs, fighting over some castaway bone and thirsting for each other’s blood.

The Guerrillas Routed

Louisville Daily Democrat – January 23, 1865

Of late, certain portions of our state have been infested with prowling bands of guerrillas, who have acted pretty much as they pleased and where resistance has been made by the citizens, murder has marked the progress of their march.

On Friday, a party of Wigginton’s men, consisting of Nathaniel Straney, and three others, entered West Point, with the evident intention of robbing the inhabitants of the place. The citizens, who had been looking for some movement of this kind, were prepared to meet the intruders, and as they entered the town they opened fire on them with pistols and shotguns, wounding two of their number, Nathaniel Straney and Ben Wigginton.

The citizens followed them for some distance back in the hills and succeeded in capturing one of the wounded men, Straney, who was brought to Louisville Saturday.

A report that the party at West Point were under the command of Hays is erroneous, as he was in no way connected with the gang of guerrillas. He advised the citizens of the town to execute all of whom they captured, at the same time pledging himself to assist them.

A number of citizens who assisted in driving the marauders from the town have arrived in Louisville, being afraid to remain in the little town, as the people are in hourly apprehension that the place will be attacked by increased numbers.

The force of Wigginton is said to be about 100 mounted men, who are divided into five companies, or squads, scattered throughout Hardin and Bullitt counties.

The camaraderie built up during combat service has long been one of the strongest bonds known to mankind. Individuals have for thousands of years united in joint endeavors, but only in war service have the friendships, and shared hardships and dangers, developed into such close ties among its participants.

No doubt around two thousand years ago, members of the Roman Legion, and later the Crusaders, would get together in small groups to reminisce and recall shared experiences, as well as the scene of battle. The many reunions of World War II units held in Louisville and other cities each year is a continuation of this tradition.

Thirty years after the end of the War Between the States, such a reunion was held here in West Point, Kentucky, and to this date over a century later, it remains the most gala and exciting event that has ever occurred in this historic Kentucky town.

In September 1865, the G.A.R. (Grand Army of the Republic – the veterans of the Union Army in the Civil War) held their annual reunion in Louisville. This was their 30th anniversary reunion and the first GAR reunion held south of the Ohio River. All the previous reunions had been held in the north – obviously the G.A.R. was not too popular in the South.

The entire city of Louisville put its best foot forward to host this gigantic affair. In the last hot days of summer, the wildest and never‑to‑be‑repeated convention of old soldiers took place. Approximately 150,000 Union veterans of the Civil War from all over the north converged on the city.

While the old soldiers attended the reunion and were here to renew old memories and friendships, Louisville businessmen lost no time cashing in on the influx of conventioneers. Hundreds of activities were provided by the official GAR committee. There were public speakings by prominent politicians, themselves GAR members, such as the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, numerous state governors and members of Congress. After all, several GAR members, including General U.S. Grant and Rutherford B. Hayes, had since the war been elected president.

There were countless balls and receptions held during the week‑long convention. The recreation facilities of the city, including Fontaine Ferry Park and the old Buckingham burlesque theatre, operated around the clock. Anywhere the army goes, the camp‑followers are close behind, and the GAR convention was no exception. Even though the men were now 30 years older, unsavory characters were there also, with their accompanying vice and corruption.

The highlight of the convention was a grand parade, anticipated as a monumental tribute to the Grand Army’s dauntless and patriotic service. There were over 30,000 people marching in the parade. The parade was marred by the explosion of a carriage gun loaded with 60 pounds of black powder exploding at Fourth and Broadway. Five men were killed in the accident.

The Reunion at Fort Duffield

When Louisville started to plan for the GAR convention, the committee in charge asked West Point to share in the activities. A local committee was formed and the officers selected J. Lewis Williams and Frank R. Lord. These two gentlemen proceeded to plan a gigantic reunion here at West Point for the many men who had served at Fort Duffield.

Securing rosters of the men who had served here with the 9th Michigan, 1st Wisconsin, the 16th and 28th Kentucky regiments, and 1st and 18th Ohio regiments, Mr. Lord, Secretary of the Muldraugh Hill Fort Association, sent a personal invitation to each and every man. The response was tremendous — thousands of now middle‑aged veterans accepted.

Invitations were extended to the Michigan, Wisconsin, Kentucky and Ohio regiments, but the 37th Indiana, which served here and helped build Fort Duffield, was not invited. Today the reason is unknown. It could have been the ill‑feeling toward former Governor Oliver P. Morton (which was widespread in Kentucky), it could have been the harshness of Colonel Hazzard, or it could have been incidents committed by the Indiana troops — especially such as the one involving Mrs. Lewis Withers.

This writer recently discovered the original invitation to the reunion on Fort Hill, and feels humble in attempting to put into words the event that was planned for West Point on Friday, September 13th, 1895. Therefore we will yield to the words used by his grandfather, Frank R. Lord, in extending the invitation to the event:

On Muldraugh’s Heights in Hardin County, 20 miles from Louisville, at the confluence of the Ohio and Salt Rivers, is a romantic spot memorable to veterans of the Ninth Michigan Regiment, First Regiment Wisconsin, and the Sixteenth and Twenty‑eighth Kentucky Volunteers.

Here is old Muldraugh’s Fort which has been carefully preserved so that the earthworks and entrenchments are intact just as they were left 30 years ago at the close of the war.

Here entrenched behind earthworks thrown up towards the south, the gallant boys in blue guarded the passes of the Muldraugh Hill range protecting the Ohio River from the invasion of the enemy from the south, and guarding the turnpike toward Bowling Green and Nashville, and the pontoon bridge over Salt River.

Here they sat by their camp fires many a long night, singing the inspiring tunes of “Old Columbia,” talking of dear ones at home in old Michigan; here they slept and dreamt of wives and children and faithful sweethearts and the happy reunion with them when this cruel war was over; here they awoke to the tattoo of the drum and answered roll calls; here they watched and prayed by those who fell victims to the enemy, disease, and other sad misfortunes of war, and here at last they laid them away in that peace which the world cannot give, under the trees in the old soldiers burying ground which may still be pointed out.

The muffled drum’s sad roll has beat the soldier’s last tattoo;
No more on life’s parade shall meet the brave and daring few;
On fame’s eternal camping ground their silent tents are spread,
And glory guards with solemn round the bivouac of the dead.

To this beautiful spot you are cordially invited, together with your friends, who may accompany you to the GAR Encampment at Louisville, in September 1895, with the assurance that everything will be done by our citizens to make the few hours you spend with profitable and pleasant.

Excursions to this point, also to the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln, with privilege to stop over at Muldraugh’s Hill Fort will be given by the C.O. & S.W. Railway at special rates.

Leaving the cars at West Point, you will be met by an escort guide familiar with the scenes and incidents of the war, who will conduct you to and through the fort, which is within easy walking distance, pointing out and explaining objects of interest, and giving an historical synopsis of the fort and the part it played in the great civil drama of 1861–65.

Several distinguished soldier speakers are invited and expected to be present each day of the encampment and will address their old comrades, and many historical relics will be exhibited.

A good “old time” Kentucky dinner will be furnished to all desiring at the uniform price of twenty‑five cents. Lodging will be at 25 cents a night.

No visitor to the encampment should return to their home without first seeing the best preserved earthworks in the South.

When the date for the reunion finally arrived, West Point found itself in a festive mood. Banners and flags were displayed everywhere. On the hill itself, a dramatic change had taken place. The old trenches were intact and even some of the old log cabins that had been erected for shelter were still standing, although in badly deteriorating condition.

Heavy growth of woods, in the 30‑year period, had engulfed the old fort. The old wagon road up the back of the hill had been reworked. The local committee had built a Chautauqua grounds on the site, with a welcome arch and an enclosed gazebo‑type speaker’s stand. There was also a private clubhouse built, which was used in the festivities. Many piles of old cannon‑balls were still piled around the abandoned gun emplacements.

The Louisville papers reported:

“A remarkable feature of the effort is the condition of the earthworks and entrenchments. Time and elements and even the farmer’s plow have not brought any considerable change. The high walls of the entrenchments are overrun by verdure, but it requires only a small amount of imagination to see the cannon planted on the embrasures — to see blue‑clad men hurrying here and there — to hear the sharp orders of soldier life and see the white tents and flag of the country.”

The earthworks surrounded about five acres. The walls on the side of the cliff, a sheer descent of 150 feet, formed the protection on the side of the Ohio River. At the extreme northwest point of the hill the trenches begin and follow a zigzag line in an irregular semi‑circle, arriving at a point of the cliff 200 yards to the west.

In this line of trenches there are seven points, on each of which a cannon was placed. Around the entire fort the earthworks are from six to eight feet high from the inside, and from the top of the wall to the fort outside the distance is from 15 to 20 feet. The top of the wall is flat and is sufficient to allow four men to patrol abreast.

The old relics have not been destroyed. Here and there are the remains of the old stone chimneys and fireplace excavations for the cook‑house, the officer’s headquarters, and the path to the spring is all intact.

Old soldiers never die, they just fade away. Pictured above, left to right, is George W. Green, Co. A, Sgt. Merrill Fuller, Co. A, and Sgt. William H. Ostrom, Co. K, all shown at an old soldiers reunion.

Following the end of the war, Fort Duffield continued to have an interesting history. During the war, the property, before it was confiscated by the Federal government, had belonged to Mrs. Ann Guthrie, the widow of Julius Gibbs Guthrie, a prominent West Point merchant, miller, and farmer.

Mrs. Guthrie had lost one son in the army, James Guthrie, who was killed in action while serving with the Confederate Army in Georgia. Within the next decade, Mrs. Guthrie sold the property to Henry Dink, a German immigrant who farmed the land for about 15 years.

About 1885, Dink sold a portion of the property to the Fort Hill Stone Co. for the purpose of a rock quarry. The rock quarry was used chiefly to supply ballast to the street car and interurban lines which then operated extensively in the Midwest.

The company’s steam-powered rock crusher was located on what is now Fort Duffield property alongside the railroad tracks. A narrow gauge railroad line was built from the crusher up the hollow to near the present-day parking lot for Fort Duffield. Its right of way can still be seen adjacent to the roadway entering the park.

When the stone company ran into financial problems, the property was sold to Pendleton Beckley, and some of his wealthy friends including Mr. Benedict DuPont of Delaware, and the place was converted into a hunting lodge. During this time a Chautauqua grounds occupied the old Fort Duffield site.

The hunting lodge was the site of many parties held by wealthy Louisvillians. Eventually Mr. Dink sold to Beckley the remainder of his land and the nearby Jewell family farm was added to the property.

In the meantime, about 1907, the extension of the Louisville, Henderson and St. Louis Railway passed through the property near the foot of the big hill.

With the advent of World War I, the entire property was purchased by the U.S. Army for the establishment of Camp Henry Knox, later to become Fort Knox. The property was rarely used by the military, and for a period of 60 years it lay in a state of woodland.

About 1978, the 172-acre tract was declared surplus and was deeded to the city of West Point for park purposes.

After the Fort Duffield property was acquired by the city it lay in a dormant state until 1992. In that year a small but very dedicated group of volunteers vowed to see that the old Civil War fort be restored and opened to the public.

This group of civic-minded men and women has worked hours upon hours clearing the grounds, building facilities and doing the basic maintenance that is constantly required. Many times, at their own expense, they have worked to make Fort Duffield what it is today – Kentucky’s best preserved Civil War site.

Fort Duffield is sacred ground. Here, around 140 years ago, 61 young American boys paid the supreme sacrifice by giving their lives for their country. They were laid to rest in the hallowed ground of Old Fort Duffield.

These boys were not numbers. They were some mother’s son, someone’s brother, and in some cases some small child’s father. Let us hope for years to come, someone will keep the torch burning by honoring the men who served here.

Fort Duffield, West Point, Kentucky, as it was drawn by Charles I. Kelley, Co. I, 9th Michigan Infantry regiment in 1861. The fort faces south – this is the back side.

The last civilian owner of Fort Duffield, as previously noted, was Pendleton Beckley, a very wealthy Louisville attorney. First Beckley bought the property from the old Fort Hill Stone Company, along with a few partners, and then finally he bought it outright.

At one time Beckley was City Attorney for Louisville and later a famous international lawyer. He lived and practiced law in Paris from about 1920 until shortly before his death on March 25, 1955. Among his many honors was the award of the French Legion of Honor for his aiding the unfortunate French in World War II.

Before leaving our Saga of Fort Duffield, I wish to present a glimpse at the family and history of the man who commanded the fort and whose father the fort was named for.

William Ward Duffield

William Ward Duffield was born at Carlisle, Pennsylvania, November 19, 1824, the third child of Reverend George Duffield & Isabella Bethubne Duffield. The other children of George and Isabella were: George (1818–1888), Davie Bethune (1821–1891), Isabella Graham (b. 1825), and Samuel Pierce (b. 1833).

The grandparents of William Ward Duffield – on his father’s side – were: George Duffield (1767–1817) and Faithful Slaymaker (1767–1847). William married Annie Louise Ladue in 1854 and their children were Will Ward Duffield (1858–1939) and Louise Angel Duffield (1855–1941).

William was educated at Columbia University, where he graduated in 1843 with a degree in Engineering.

When the Civil War broke out, he recruited a unit and commanded the 3rd Michigan Infantry Regiment. He resigned before they left the state and then commanded the 9th Michigan Infantry Regiment in October 1861 as a Colonel.

On January 9, 1862, he was ordered to Bardstown, Kentucky, to head an officer examining board. From March 8 to May 14, 1862, he commanded the 23rd Brigade of the Army of the Ohio.

On April 11, 1862, he was appointed acting brigadier general, but his appointment was not confirmed by the United States Senate; it was tabled on July 16, 1862.

On May 9, 1862, he was appointed acting military governor of Kentucky. On July 12, 1863, Duffield arrived in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, in command of the 9th Michigan.

The following day the Union garrison, under the overall command of Brig. Gen. Thomas T. Crittenden, was attacked and defeated by Confederate General Nathan Bedford Forrest in the First Battle of Murfreesboro. Col. Duffield was twice wounded during the attack and captured; he was exchanged on August 27, 1862.

Following the Civil War, William managed coal mines in Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Kentucky for several years and also surveyed for railroads. In 1894, he was appointed as head of the Coastal & Geodetic Survey in Washington, D.C.

He left office when William McKinley was elected President and lived in Washington, D.C. until his death. Duffield died in June 1907 and was buried in Section 3 of Arlington National Cemetery.