By James K. Swisher In the lengthening shadows of a late October afternoon, a column of tired marchers attired in dusty, fringed hunting dress emerged from the trees along the north bank of the Kanawha River, raising an exhilarating shout upon sighting its confluence with the Ohio. Moving to the beat of an awkward drummer and the high, shrill squeal of fifes, which scattered birds across the sky, the flower of Virginia’s upland militia filed into the triangular meadow formed by the coalesce o


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