By Fred Harris

I was accepted into the Harborcreek Chapter of the Future Farmers of America (F. F. A.) in the fall of 1955, and so began an experience that would provide me with a base that I would find myself drawing on throughout out a life time.

Vocational Agriculture at Harborcreek High at that time was taught by William Ellwood. Time would show us that he was a fair and knowledgeable man and teacher. He well understood young boys, and was more than willing to tolerate their shenanigans; as long as they did not get out of hand. He had respect for all of “his” boys. They, in turn, respected and trusted him.

A Vo. Ag. student was required to carry at least one agricultural orientated project, then each succeeding year the student was required to add at least one additional project, so that in the fourth year one would have at least four active projects.

A typical class ran two periods – one usually of classroom theory, and one of farm shop or field trips.  While most students had to move from class to class within the confines of the school building each day, we got to walk outside to get to our class ( which was held in the annex); and then once there, who knew where we’d end up.

There were three degrees of chapter membership in the Harborcreek Chapter of the Future Farmers;  Green Hand, Chapter Farmer, and State farmer.  The fall of “55” saw myself as well as 11 other classmates initiated into Green Hand. After the last of the “tests” were passed, we were awarded our bronze Green Hand pin at a solemn ceremony, which in part consisted of sitting on a block of ice and reciting the FFA Creed. A Creed that I, after 55 years, can still remember. I often wonder why.

With the approval of a chosen project, we were given a project record book.  In this book we kept all records of our project work, such as hours worked on the project, amount of money expended, types of machinery required and cost involved, as well as comments and observations and any profits/ losses made. Our grades were based in great part on these records and success of goals set.

Vocational Agriculture class ran all year around, like a farm would, unlike  “normal” school class’s that began in September and ended in May.  Mr. Ellwood would make unannounced visits to class members to observe our project (s) and answer any questions we may have. He would check our Project Books and make recommendations as to how we might improve our operations. These visits could occur at any time, but usually happened during summer vacation.

Throughout some 40 years of my working career as a hospital planner, I often drew from the teachings of my years in F.F.A.. What, you may ask, did the teaching of farming have to do with helping one in such a profession, or any profession, so removed from the land? The teachings of F.F.A. taught, (and still does) among many other things, (1) work ethics, (2) cooperation with others, (3) hope of progress through ones labor, (4) leadership, (5) respect (for oneself & others), (6)responsibility ( to oneself, family & community) (7) organization, (8) dreams & development of those dreams. Ah…those were the days.

By Eric Marshall

By the time Abraham Lincoln took the oath of office as President of the United States on Monday, March 4, 1861, the national upheaval of secession was a grim reality. Jefferson Davis had been inaugurated as the President of the Confederacy two weeks earlier and nerves were raw. Despite the fact that, in his address, Lincoln called for calm and ”the better angels of our nature,” the following month Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor was forced to surrender following bombardment by Confederate forces and the country was at war.

In Erie the news of war was greeted with great patriotic fervor. Local government bodies responded with resolutions in support of the Union. Letters and editorials appeared in the newspapers urging citizens to fly their flags. When the word was received that troops were needed, one local citizen, John W. McLane, on April 21, issued a call for volunteers for immediate service in the National Army and within four days twelve hundred men, from Erie, Crawford and Warren counties had assembled at the City of Erie.

The grounds selected for the local encampment were east of the city on the north side of Buffalo Road and were the original Erie County Fair Grounds. They were purchased by the Fair Association in 1860 and fairs were held there in 1860 and 1861. Today this would be the land that is on the northwest corner of Buffalo Road and Franklin Ave. immediately across from the Jack Frost Donut Shop on Buffalo Road. The land ran from Buffalo Road to the railroad tracks and was known as “Camp Wayne” after General Anthony Wayne who died in Erie in 1796. There were some display buildings on the fair grounds that were loosely constructed. They faced the north and east and were used by the soldiers as temporary shelter.

McLane was no stranger to military affairs. In 1859 he had organized a local group known as the “Wayne Guard,” a volunteer company whose duties were mostly ceremonial. This company became the nucleus of the new regiment which was known as the “Erie Regiment.” The men had no uniforms and so the ladies of the city organized and quickly raised funds and made the men uniforms which consisted of a jacket and pants of blue and a shirt of yellow flannel. Quite an accomplishment which took just under a week!

On April 27 McLane was elected the Colonel of the regiment, Matthias Schlaudecker was elected Major and Strong Vincent, a private in the Wayne Guards, was appointed Adjutant. The next day the regiment headed by rail to Pittsburgh having been organized in just one week.

The “Erie Regiment” never saw any action on the battlefield. They were disbanded following a three month encampment in Pittsburgh and the expiration of their term of service. They returned to Erie via railroad and were greeted with a picnic provided by local citizens.

The “Erie Regiment” had scarcely been disbanded when the news of the disaster at Bull Run on July 21 aroused the nation to a new sense of danger. Several days later Simon Cameron, Secretary of War, issued a call for regiments to be formed for three year’s service. Colonel McLane volunteered to raise a regiment in Erie and in less than five weeks nearly a thousand men had responded, embracing nearly three hundred from the old “Erie Regiment.” They rendezvoused at “Camp Wayne,” now renamed “Camp McLane,” where they set up camp life. The fair buildings were converted into bunk houses and a drill field constructed where at the head stood a large flag pole. Again, elections were held and McLane was elected Colonel and Strong Vincent, Lt. Colonel.

The new regiment attracted men from not only Erie, Crawford and Warren Counties but Venango and Mercer Counties as well. On September 8th, the regiment was mustered into service for the United States and the name was changed from the “Erie Regiment” to the 83rd Pennsylvania Volunteers. This regiment would go on to fight in a whole list of battles including Antietam, Gettysburg, the Wilderness Campaign, Spottsylvania, the Siege of Petersburg and was present for the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia at Appomattox Court House. The 83rd was disbanded at Harrisburg on July 4, 1865 having suffered total losses of 435 officers and men.

On August 30, 1861, Matthias Schlaudecker, who had been a Major in the “Wayne Guards” and also a Major General of Militia in Pennsylvania, wired Governor Andrew Curtin for authority to recruit a new regiment from northwestern Pennsylvania. Upon receiving approval, Schlaudecker set out raising a second regiment from the Erie area. Schlaudecker sought support of Thomas M. Walker, a civil engineer from Erie and George A. Cobham, Jr. of Warren in raising the new regiment. He also renamed “Camp McLane” after a prominent Erie citizen, General Charles M. Reed, who at the time of his death in 1871, left an estate of nearly fifteen million dollars. The mansion that C. M. Reed built is located on the northwest corner of Perry Square and is known today as “The Erie Club.”

Schlaudecker realized that morale among his men would greatly improve if they had proper food and housing. The old fair buildings were upgraded and great stoves were requisitioned to keep them warm. Headquarters were established in newer buildings near by Camp Reed. Schlaudecker, himself born in Bavaria, filled the regiment with a cross section of men with many men of German and Irish lineage found in its ranks but the bulk were native born. Schlaudecker ran the camp under military law and obtained new percussion cap weapons for the guards. A hard taskmaster, every minute of every day was filled with prescribed duties. Food was a ration of hard bread, beef or pork, beans, coffee and sugar. Those who were closer to home enjoyed food and clothing deliveries from family members. Those from outlying areas were not so lucky.

A typical day at Camp Reed under Schlaudecker’s command would start with falling into ranks at six-thirty for muster and inspection. Breakfast was at eight and sick call at nine. The regiment was divided into companies of one hundred men each and they would compete for awards in drilling. Drill would last until lunch and then continue until dress parade where the regimental band would be stationed behind Schlaudecker and would play while he would review the troops. A school for officers was established and it met daily. The result of this discipline was a splendid “esprit de corps.” During the evening
hours the officers would meet and would frequently draw up “Resolutions” concerning the war effort which would appear in the local papers.

Marvin D. Pettit, 1st Lieutenant, 111th P.V.I. Killed in action October 29, 1863.

On January 24, 1862 the regiment was filled and elections were held with Schlaudecker being elected Colonel, George A. Cobham, Jr., Lt. Colonel and Thomas M. Walker, Major. On February 24 marching orders were received and the regiment was to move to Baltimore via Cleveland, Pittsburgh and Harrisburg on the railroad. On February 27 they received their rifles and the regiment then marched across the capital grounds to receive their colors from Governor Curtin. The regiment was commissioned as the 111th Pennsylvania Volunteers and fought at Antietam, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg as part of the Army of the Potomac and then, as part of the Army of the Cumberland, at Wauhatchie, Lookout Mountain, Peach Tree Creek, Atlanta, Savannah, Raleigh and the surrender of Johnson’s Army. They also participated in the “Grand Review” in Washington, D. C. on May 24, 1865. The Regiment was mustered out of service on July 19, 1865. Their total losses were 304 officers and men.

One true moment of glory for the 111th occurred when they were ordered to “press” into the City of Atlanta to determine the strength of Confederate forces. Finding little opposition,
the column reached City Hall where it formed a line of battle, unfurled its battle-stained flags and received the surrender of the city. Lt. Colonel Walker, then Commanding Officer of the 111th, took the city in the name of General Sherman who telegraphed President Lincoln that “Atlanta is ours, and fairly won!” The whole north burst into enthusiasm over the great victory. The population of northwestern Pennsylvania was exceptionally proud of the accomplishments of its regiment.

Camp Reed remained vacant until the last and final regiment for the war effort was raised,
commencing in the fall of 1862. This regiment, consisting of seven companies from Erie County, also had one company each from Crawford, Warren and Mercer Counties. They rendezvoused at Camp Reed in the late summer of 1862. Hiram L. Brown of Erie was elected Colonel. David B. McCreary, also of Erie, was elected Lt. Colonel and John W. V. Patton of Crawford County was elected Major; Colonel Brown had served in the “Wayne Guards” prior to the war and also as a Captain in the three months’ Erie Regiment and as a Captain in the 83rd where he had received a severe wound at the Battle of Gaines Mill. Lt. Colonel McCreary had also served in the “Wayne Guards” and had been a lieutenant in the Erie Regiment.

At the time of the organization of the regiment there was an urgent and immediate need of troops in the Army of the Potomac. The regiment departed Erie on September 11, 1862 for Harrisburg and then Chambersburg having received almost no drill instruction by Colonel Brown who was still suffering from his wound. The Army of Northern Virginia was crossing into Maryland in preparation for a battle that would be fought along Antietam Creek. The regiment, now commissioned as the 145th Pennsylvania Volunteers, without arms and scarcely any knowledge of military duty, were sent to the front. Here they were issued antiquated muskets but no training in how to use them.

The morning of September 17 found the regiment at the far right of the Union line at the Battle of Antietam facing a force commanded by General Thomas (Stonewall) Jackson. The fighting was intense but the 145th held its ground and the regiment awoke the next morning to find that the enemy had retired from the fight.

The 145th saw action as part of the Army of the Potomac at Antietam, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, the Wilderness Campaign, Cold Harbor and the Siege of Petersburg, and was present for the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia at Appomattox Court House. The 145th also participated in the “Grand Review” in Washington on May 23, 1865. The regiment was mustered out of service on May 31, 1865. Their total losses were 422 officers and men.

Following the war Camp Reed fell into disrepair. The buildings were eventually torn down and the land sold to Mr. H. C. Shannon who held it until his death. By 1896 the land was part of his estate. To this day, no marker is in place to commemorate this historic plot where so many military careers commenced, where many soldiers wished their loved ones well and then never returned to see them again, and where the “art of war” was taught in Erie County.

By Harborcreek Military Veteran Carlton Pierce

1st Lieutenant Carlton E. Pierce, U.S. Army Air Force, 527th Fighter Squadron, 86th Fighter Group. Enlisted January 6, 1944, discharged May 2, 1947.

We were stationed in “Toonerville,” France. The date was March 25th, 1945. The mission was an eight ship recognizance over Germany with the briefing time approximately 8:30 a.m. Garber and Setterlund gave us the last minute dope and made some worthy comments. It was mostly routine with one exception. General Patton had started his push across the Rhine and our bomb-safe line extended across the Rhine in the vicinity of Mainz. This was welcome news to all and especially to me, as this was my 97th mission and I was “sweat’in ’em out.”

Take-off was made on time and after a quick join-up we headed for Germany with Colonel Lee flying high top cover. Forward control had no targets so we proceeded with our recognizance. While detouring around Mannheim and Heidelberg, Roy Hall called in some box cars in a small marshalling yard east of Heidelberg. The cars looked undamaged so I decided to take red flight in on them with white flight flying cover. As I released my bombs, intense 20 MM fire greeted me. I knew my aircraft had been hit.

The cock-pit filled with smoke and as normal flight was regained, the controls became less and less responsive. I shut off the supercharger and hoped to reach the front lines, but as I soon had full left stick in a bank to the right and flames were creeping up the left side of the cock-pit, I reasoned it was time to leave. The canopy was already open and I unfastened my safety belt and put my heels on the seat. I remember nothing of the bailout, but a slight jerk brought me to my senses and I looked up to see the gleaming folds of my open parachute. At the same instant, I glanced downward in time to see my plane hit the ground in a mass of flames. In a few seconds my chute had tangled in a tree stopping me a few inches from the ground. My only impulse was to get away from the chute as fast and as far as possible. So, unsnapping my harness, I took off like a scared rabbit.

Before long I grew tired, so finding a dense thicket of underbrush, I dug in and covered myself with twigs and leaves. According to my watch, the time was exactly 11:30 a.m. It wasn’t long before someone or something came charging through the brush on either side of me. I never knew what it was because I couldn’t see more than a few feet without exposing myself, but I surmised it was someone looking for me, and I felt like a hunted animal. I remained in that spot for the rest of the day and saw no one although I could hear women’s and children’s voices incessantly. With the aid of my escape kit map, I estimated my position a few miles from Heidelberg, that is, to the southeast of that city. As darkness fell, I headed west with my little compass as a guide. I walked for what seemed to me hours, stopping at every little stream for a drink of water.

I finally tired and decided to try and get a little sleep. The weather wasn’t very warm so I made a little lean-to out of pine boughs and leaves. I slept very little and as day began to break, I decided to find a better hideout. With good luck, I figured I could make the front lines in another night, but as day grew brighter, I saw things differently. I was perched on the top of a hill overlooking a flat treeless plain with the Rhine about 10 or 15 miles away.

Knowing nothing of the fortifications on the plain or the frontlines, I decided it was best to remain at my present location. I selected a tall pine tree to serve as my look-out and built myself another small lean-to. As luck would have it a heavy mist rolled in and remained for about three days. During that time I saw no aircraft with the exception of two P-51 recce. planes.

The only food I had with me was one peanut candy bar with which I rationed myself one bite per meal. After two or three days I no longer craved food but began to get thirsty. The only water I could see from my lookout was what appeared to be a lake a few miles out on the plain. One night my thirst drove me to attempt to find the lake. After going down the hill, I was confronted with a main road which I would have to cross. The traffic was heavy, civilians on foot and heavy army tanks. During a short break in traffic, I managed to cross the road and headed for the lake but didn’t get far when I nearly walked into a battery of heavy guns. Fearing detection I retraced my steps and headed back to the hills. On my return trip I found some water in a wheel track on a dirt road and quenched my thirst. The return across the main road was as before a long wait for a break in the traffic. I reached the point of exhaustion on the climb up the hill being able to go only a few feet at a time. However, I found a spring part way up the hill so I was now assured of a water supply and could turn my attention to food.

During the day I had illusions of raiding a German house, but in the inky darkness of the night I became confused about directions and never found a house. I did however manage to find a garden with some old cabbage heads, rhubarb and onion tops, and that was my diet for three days.  My appetite had left me and I ate very little. The next few days were uneventful. But from exhaustion, dampness and nerves, I developed a case of the shakes and my nose ran like a leaky faucet. Being cold and damp all the time I figured on pneumonia but didn’t even catch a cold.

I saw many civilians cutting logs in the woods. Two of them saw me but were evidently not interested enough to follow me. On the morning of the sixth day I was awakened by the sound of many motors in Heidelberg. There had been heavy gunfire in that vicinity all night and a brilliant display of fireworks from the 20mm, so I knew something was going to happen. Climbing my high tree I could see many tanks tearing down the main road, but at that distance I could not identify them. I started down the hill with heavy shells going over my head and landing in the valley behind me. After moving closer I could hear some of the boys who were having trouble with one of the tanks using English, and believe me, it was music to my ears.

I was very cautious as I crept up to the last vehicle in line – a Jeep with two boys inside. I looked over the Jeep which was covered in big white stars, stepped up to the side and blurted out, “What language do you speak?” They both looked at me oddly and replied “American.” At that moment I became so deliriously happy that I could have kissed them both. But I was so nervous I could hardly talk. They made me some coffee and broke open a C ration. Although the cheese and crackers looked like a T-bone steak to me, I could swallow no food so I had to be content with the coffee only. I was taken back to Tank Co. in Heidelberg and interviewed by the C.G. Another Jeep ride took me back into Mannheim where I spent the night and was flown back to our squadron the following day, April 1st.

Everyone was glad I returned safely. I was certainly happy and thankful to get back. The War Deptartment had sent a MIA telegram home, so I immediately dispatched one myself saying I was o.k. The happy ending came when both telegrams arrived at home at the same time, sparing my parents an untold amount of worry.