Today found me lying in the fields of Andersonville before experiencing the military service for my father-in-law at the adjoining National Cemetery. To say the day was emotional would be an understatement. For those of you not familiar with Civil War history, Andersonville was the military prison the Confederate States of America used to house Union prisoners of war of which my great-great-grandfather was one. He was captured in the first twenty minutes of Grant’s debacle of a charge at Cold Harbor in the wee hours of the morning in 1864. Once transferred to Andersonville, Hugh Matthews arrived with the clothes on his back and spent the next six months wondering if he’d ever survive the 16 acres where 33, 000 prisoners made their home. Of the 52,000 prisoners of war that walked through the main gate, 13,000 perished and are buried in graves, many Unknown, at the National Cemetery. No one in the South likes to talk about Andersonville and not many learn of the carnage, but emaciated humans weren’t only a product of famine on some other continent. There were men who starved to death within the confines of the farmlands that bordered the prison. Thanks to Hugh Matthews surviving or I wouldn’t be writing this. While lying down in the fields I imagine what it would be like to not have a shelter, not have fresh water, and barely enough food for one meal a day and only the field around me to walk for those excruciating months. There was a “Dead Line” some 19 feet from the stockade walls where if one touched or crossed meant you were shot without warning. Some crossed on purpose. I walk through the Dead Line now and smile knowing the brazen act is for Hugh. Driving over to the National Cemetery where we had the flag ceremony for Henry “Bud” Harper we connected our two families through all the great wars. Bud was a veteran of WWII, Korea, and Vietnam as well as flying air rescue in Alaska during the Cold War where my father was stationed running communication lines to secret air bases and missile sites. All of my books are about connections. They’re about a Universe that brings people together if you’re willing to ask and listen to the world around you. Christine and I are bound by three people who found common ground in the fields of Andersonville where one survived and the others laid to rest.