The Hunt men: from left, Grandfather Roy, Great-Grandfather Frank, and Great-Great-Grandfather Horace.
I drive past two thousand, two hundred and sixty dead Confederate soldiers every morning on my way to work. Perhaps this would not be noteworthy were I a denizen of the south, but I live in Columbus, Ohio, well into old Union territory. The fallen rebels are permanent residents of the last surviving parcel of Camp Chase, a military installation that prepared Ohio recruits for battle in the Civil War and housed a prison for captured enemy soldiers.
Today the once-sprawling complex is nothing more than a modest cemetery enclosed by stone walls. Among its neighbors are a library branch, an ice cream stand, and a deserted corner gas station. It is probable that most commuters traveling along Sullivant Avenue are unaware of the sacred historic landmark they are passing.
One step within its iron gates is a sobering antidote to such ignorance. Walk around outside the cemetery’s perimeter, or scan its area as depicted in a satellite photograph, and you may perceive only a small rectangle of land. Stand within its walls, however, and its interior seems to expand to impossible dimensions. Row after row after row of small white headstones crowded together evoke the seemingly infinite crosses of Arlington National Cemetery. The Confederates buried there were once held captive on Union soil, and following their deaths due to disease, they remain prisoners to this day. Read More