N O UNION TROOPS rendered greater service on this day than these men

from New York, Pennsylvania, Vermont and Maine.

Jeffry D. Wert From Winchester to Cedar Creek'

Your foreign corres pondent here, writing from south of the Mason- Dixon Line.

The morning of October 19, 1864 dawned, and south of Middletown, Virginia in the northern end of the Shenandoah Valley, Cedar Creek, a small tributary of the Shenandoah River, lay deep and still in the thick, grey fog. A stark, lonely homestead stood in the ravine, a reluctant observer to the mayhem about to unfold: a terrible battle would rage at its doorstep, a battle that would help define our nation.

Today is October 18, 2009. North of the Shenandoah River and east of Cedar Creek, my husband and I stand shivering under a steely grey sky. A bonechilling mist falls all around us. Against the dark background of the Blue Ridge Mountains, soldiers and cavalry swarm the gentle hillsides as we watch a reenactment of the Battle of Cedar Creek. On knolls skirting the edges of the battleground, a steady wind whips the long, cotton dresses, bonnets and cloaks of the women and children, huddled together for warmth.

Civil War reinactors participate in a cavalry charge at the Battle of Cedar Creek last week. A number of Vermoners were at Cedar Creek including some from Northfield. The reenactment in this historic town is total immersion. The night before the battle, we eat dinner in the Wayside Inn, circa 1797. We mingle with men and women in period dress. The only contradictions in this timewarp are the 'slaves' sharing the dinner table with plantation owners and merchants, one infantry man swigging a Dr. Pepper, and the roadside sandwich board near the battlefield that reads, "Go home Bluebellies (just a joke)".

In 1864, over 20,000 men in the Confederate Army of the Valley, led by Lt. Gen. Jubal A. Early, battled to sustain their economically lucrative way of life. Cotton grew easily in the hot, humid south, and for the plantation owners, the labor of slaves made great profits possible. Most battles in the Civil War were fought on southern soil, which exacerbated the feelings of bitterness in ensuing years.

The Union soldiers fought bravely for its principles of freedom for all. Under the leadership of Maj. Gen. Philip H. Sheridan, the Army of the Shenandoah included the VI Corps. This corps consisted of the Vermont Second Brigade: 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 6th and 10th Infantry; the 1st Cavalry and the 11th Heavy Artillery. It was true then, as it is in recent wars, that Vermont soldiers often serve proudly on the battle front and suffer high casualties. At Cedar Creek, they lost over 40 percent of their rank.

Prior to this battle, Sheridan had made a trip to Washington. Two days of fighting ensued near Cedar Creek, and the Confederate Army overpowered the Union forces. When Sheridan returned, he found his troops in disarray. But a tactical error on Early's part, an inexplicable delay of over 6 hours, allowed Sheridan to regroup his battered soldiers, and he launched a devastating and successful counter-attack. The decisive Union victory in the Battle of Cedar Creek effectively closed the Shenandoah Valley, a key source of food reserves for the Confederate soldiers.

On this grey afternoon, we watch as flags unfurl, and the wind catches and whips the colors, signaling to all the intent of each brigade. In the distant ravine, in the nearby woods, and on the rolling hills before us, battle-ready soldiers stand together. Restless horses dance beneath their riders in anticipation.

Still standing today, the small white homestead continues its sad vigil. Rifles crack and spit fiery spikes, the cannons boom. The air fills with smoke. The earth beneath our feet trembles. Men yell commands to retreat, attack, pull back. There are shouts from the wounded and dying. The two cavalries gallop into battle close by, and crash together, horses thrashing. Sabers ring out loud metallic clanging sounds as soldiers fight in earnest for their lives and their freedoms. The vibrations and terror from the battle travel into our body, if not our soul. Several people stifle choking sobs at the disturbingly realistic chaos and destruction before our eyes.

In the final stillness on the battleground, with the Army of the Shenandoah in defeat, a long, lonely, mournful wail wafts from the top of the hill, signifying the end of the battle. A solitary bugler plays Taps.