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Old soldiers gone by: Stories by Leslie and Helga


In 1991 my husband and I moved into a beautiful old home built around 1795 on 5 acres. We were sketchy on the history of it and no one seemed to know much beyond the previous 20 or 30 years. It was one of the oldest homes in the county and we couldn't wait to move in spite of the work and construction that lay ahead.

No sooner did we move in than I started to feel the presence of an old soldier. His spirit seemed to be very present, and I finally told my husband, "He is interested in who we are and he was in WWl. "How do you know it was WWl, " he wanted to know. "The uniform is clearly WWl." Periodically I would sense his presence from time to time which was peaceful and curious, and he felt at home.

Next came the Indians a few nights later. I could feel their presence and finally they spoke to me: "You have inherited the land-our land- and we welcome you. Your ancestors here were kind and just people, and we welcome you and honor you as we did them. They were honorable and fair people and we honor and bless you now. You will know our presence. You will be responsible for the land now, even though you will travel to faraway lands and return" (*I traveled many places over the next 10 years including India, China and Thailand)

That night as fog moved in off the nearby lake and encircled the house (which it continued to do until I moved, forming a circle around the exact acreage with total visibility inside and 0 visibility of the house from the outside) I could feel the Indian spirits/warriors dance around the house all night in a type of ceremony welcoming us to the land and honoring us.

A friend of mine who was a a shaman informed me they referred to me as an ancestor of the original settlers as I had taken possession of their property and land and this is how they would view me, and I was honored to have been welcomed.

Over the months small details of the property came to light, and from time to time we would get a new piece of information about the house.

Just after moving in we discovered an unmarked graveyard. Some of the gravestones had names and dates and going back to the early 1700's. Some were impossible to read and there were many unmarked stones that would have belonged to children or others who were close to the family. This became my first project and we hired a man to clean up the graveyard and secure the tombstones. I always felt peaceful in the graveyard and hoped the original owners approved of what I was doing to take care of their land and home. From the graveyard we learned that generations of the same family had lived in the house throughout the 1800's into the next century.

One of the stories we were told was that Davy Crockett for a time had stayed in the house although we could never document it.

Over time I felt the presence of the original settler and owner of the land. To say he had a pioneer presence (like Davy Crockett) was an understatement. I felt he was young-20's, and had a wife he loved. Often I felt his presence upstairs, which during the time the house had been built would have been a loft in a log cabin that was quite large for its time and place.

The front yard was full of 200 year old maple trees that stood guard like old soldiers protecting the property. I often thought about how the house had been built just after the Revolution in frontier times. It had seen the Civil War, WW1 and 11, Korea, Vietnam, the sixties and the War in Afghanistan and yet it stood proud, peaceful and silent. I felt we were lucky to live there.

On July 4, there was a knock at the door and it was the local chapter of the DAR. (Daughters of the American Revolution) They wanted permission to visit the graveyard and lay flowers on the graves. The original settler as it turns out had been a Revolutionary War hero! His descendant was a decorated WW1 veteran and hero and the local VFW was named after them.

Here's to all the veterans and warriors now and in the past. Their sacrifices are your good fortune today. Happy Memorial Day!

More true stories below about old soldiers who came before us by psychic Helga Morrow.
Old soldiers never die, They just fade away Old soldiers never die. They just fade away…
General Douglas MacArthur 1951 farewell address

Memorial day weekend. Honoring our dead… Military and loved ones

[None of what I am about to write is political… It happened out of the blue since childhood in 3D]

I grew up in a neat little Baltimore row house neighborhood. Walked everywhere and up the hill of more row houses, and my catholic school and tiny shopping center. Same paths every day since I was 6. Safe and quiet. Everyone was friendly. My friends and neighbors all were friends. Families were close during WWII. Some of the big boys went to war. One by one stars hung in the windows… We all mourned and supported our joys and sorrows. A small red rimmed flag would hang in the window with “one navy star.” Then sometimes a second and third hung in the window.

One such tiny house was 3 small flags Mrs Mc lost 3 sons… they used to play ball in out street. I remember. She rented a room to make ends meet. Low and behold she rented it out to an extremely old gentleman [and his dog Brownie] Uncle Ted [not his real name] He walked his dog all the time. Down the street and up and down the hill. Very quiet kindly gentleman. Some kids walked slowly with him. He and I became walking buddies since I was six… remember I was clueless at that age about American history. Never could figure out “the Civil War” at that age. But he mentioned it a little, but mainly talked about my neighborhood when HE knew it in the 1800’s.

One memorial day our neighbors and my Mom had our little American flags in our planters on our porch walls all the way down the street on memorial day [4th of July too].Who was sitting on the “stoop”[steps]?
Uncle Ted in his Civil war Confederate uniform. All cleaned and pressed, with a long shiny sword. He never said a word. Just sat there. Dignified smile. Old wrinkled face. One eye always teared.

He was an orphan. His parents were killed, murdered. He was rescued, used as a little spy and drummer boy at around my age. The officer who rescued him adopted him with his wife [and regiment] raised him. What history! First hand little stories. He always kept his place. Never told anything gory. Very positive. This went on until I was around 10.

The point is: I came home from school one day returning down the hill alone. Bookbag in my hand. I always walked down the alley to the back door [most of us did].
There was Mom and Mrs. H. All upset. Mom was shook. She blurted out “Uncle Ted came up the front porch steps to say Goodbye…He will miss you!” I got upset… I thought Uncle Ted went to an “old Soldiers home” which he dreaded. My Mom told me nobody uses the front porch. Everyone would “say hello” from the back. Very unusual. Mom said she looked at him as he walked down the steps with Brownie.

I quickly knew something was dreadfully wrong. Mrs H was all shook up. She had told Mom Uncle Ted was found dead 3 days before by Mrs. Mc. He passed away. They both looked strangely at me. I kid you not. He came to say goodbye. I was 10. Many stories. Much first hand history. An old old soldier with a big heart. What human love can do through innocence and respect. Just an ordinary little girl, walking with a piece of history. The unknown soldier, who quietly protected her on her path to school.

Part 2
My husband and I lived in his little hometown in Ohio for a while.
The whole family had a prayer circle over his dad’s grave. Situated on what used to be a Civil war battleground for the north. I again was clueless about that area. It was late 1980’s. St_______ area. No clue of that particular part of that area’s history.

I stood there holding on to my husband [because I stupidly had on heels in a graveyard. Was trying to keep my balance. While I tried to look as dignified as possible, I was trying to not sink my heels in the ground. In doing so I quickly turned my head for some reason… I was in shock: a whole regiment of blue uniformed soldiers ran behind us hollering inaudibly in full battle gear towards the woods. I grabbed my husbands arms tightly to keep from tripping… he turned around… Looked at me stunned…he saw and heard nothing… neither did his family. His ancestors fought here… I never heard of the place. Oh my gosh… I realized these were the “Imprints” of a real battle here. [3D ghosts of the past… a spirit re-run] Found out history was made here.

The house we lived in in Ohio was Civil war ground: we heard Soft harmonica music played at night… Spirit of an old long dead soldier. Neighbors couldn’t figure it out either.

Part 3
Our bedroom couple years ago: Twice in a week:
Facing South: Our property is in Ft Lowell battleground area; I again had no clue. Sat up in bed after washing my hands and saw a blue coated soldier with buttons down his uniform. Dragging a wagon with 2 Apache Indians helping pull the wagon. They were bare chested, saw their sweat glistening in what seemed like the moonlight shining on them dragging but tied to the wagon heading towards the fort.

I was intrigued, but not shocked. Thought it out carefully: Could be a “Time Warp” I saw them and I was in “Their future” so I did not exist. But I noticed I can see the past as clearly as TOMORROW.

Next day I got complete validation… from the little museum and the person hosting the history. I told him the truth. He never flinched. He showed me the old photos of the area. Apaches and said some Yankees stayed a while... and had blue coat. I was right. And never had a history lesson… on any of this… This piqued my interest.

And now in my old age… My family and I have been blessed a with protection from a recent soldier [Yes we all know what he looks like and his earthly name] who protects each one of us. He transports from my family, and helped me through my hospital crisis. He promised to stay with me. He gave correct messages to my family [in person] about my daily progress [See my other blogs].

I asked for none of this. Mostly all my Contacts are positive learning and healing experiences. Please don’t be influenced by people seeking out negative energies “to have an experience.” The real beauty is from believing in the joy and true beauty from the other side. Forcing yourself to “see” something… Yes you may get it… Then it will attach itself… and use you.
Be blessed THEY choose YOU… Just ask the good to SHOW you. Pray, center yourself… Picture what you need.

To call psychic Helga Morrow:

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