>Kenedy
Little by little I’m learning this picture (image) thing among other Word Press bells and whistles. This poor picture got as fuzzy as it is by being drug around the internet a few times. I didn’t do it right but I got it here. I know it has to be simpler than the path I took using my limited code knowledge but I have learned a lot.. . . .anyway. . . . .my story is. . . .
This picture is looking East probably from the corner of Graham Road and Highway 181 South. If you look along the skyline you can see the huge metal power lines that run along the top of the hill and separates grandfather’s farm from our farm (Whipple Family Farm) 161 acres left. My grandfather Levi Pullin, had a house well off the road and about half way up the hill. If you follow the skyline left to right and about 3/4 of the way across you actually can see his farmhouse. He had about 300 acres over on his side and we had about 250 acres. together we owned most all the land between 181 and the Overby highway 743 for miles. I became a farm hand from a city boy here.. . .and helped wear out a 46 Ford 7N tractor and that is hard to do.
What you see here is an interment (Prison) camp on my grandfathers farm in Kenedy, Texas. I remember it very well and I was 9 years old when I saw it for the first time. There was a guard house at the gate just off of highway 181 South of Kenedy about a mile from town. There were guard towers and high wire fencing and you had to pass through it to get to my grandfather’s farm..
I have been reading stories about the people in this camp and I can remember walking down the sandy dirt road barefooted. It was hot and protected with some serious sized red ants, horned toads, and Texas sized grass burrs and seeing the prisoners inside the fenced area. They often called to me and one time I stopped and went over to them and they showed me pictures of their wifes and kids from wallet photos.
I had a six pack of 5 cent assorted sodas that I was carrying back home that I had bought at the “beer joint” as it was referred to by my grandmother and later known as Schultz’s Inn with the bottle cap driveway that encircled the building. They gave me money to go back down the hill and buy more drinks. I gave them the sodas I had and when I came back by the second time. . . .They were gone. This had to be in the year 1946 when Camp Kenedy had been converted to a POW (Prisoner of War) camp.
It’s just a memory. . . . .
Someone, somewhere, somehow might want to hear. . . . .
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