In the early 60s Rosie and I, while on vacation, looked on a map that said Pea Ridge National Park. Since it wasn’t far we headed in that direction. As we pulled into town we saw a sign that said civil war museum 50 cents. I thought that was odd it was in someones garage. Then a few more blocks and there was another. We stopped at the third or fourth garage and went inside and the owner took our money. There were weapons of every kind from that era including some Indian war clubs and bows and arrows including the quiver for the arrows, uniforms both northern and southern. small cannons and cannon balls stacked here and there. Some of my relatives had found Civil War artifacts at Wilson’s Creek Battlefield in MO. but nothing like this. We left and went a short way out of town to the park; the museum building was not built yet but you could go on a self guided tour of the park so we followed the signs. It was early in the morning and there was still some mist lying low in the fields here and there and fading fast. a black top road meandered around the fields with a sign here and there explaining what happened there or how many were killed here. In the distance you could see a large rock cliff with trees on top we past the Elk Horn Tavern that was a hospital for the wounded and served as head quarters for both sides as the battle raged on around it. On the side of the wall of the Tavern there was a button you could push to hear the story of the struggle there. As the booming voice came over the speakers loud and clear I realized we were there all alone not a soul anywhere just the ghosts of all the men that died while trying to stay alive. We left and went up the road to the top of the cliff and you could look out over the fields below. There on the cliff pointing out toward the battle was a huge Cannon that changed hands at least twice or more in the battle. It was so quite you could hear your own heart beat. A sign said that you could walk across the field below with out touching the ground by stepping on the dead and dieing. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I turned around to look at my wife and two little kids….Lets go I said I don’t feel like we belong here. After the battle was over and bodies had been removed the farmers who owned the ground picked up wagon loads of rifles, bayonets, swords, bows and arrows clubs and cannon balls, and dumped them in ravines and the creeks beds so they could plant their crops and go on about the task of living……this fall we went through there again but we didn’t stop…. I had seen enough…