It was a Sunday morning, June 1st, 1862.

Elijah Cogar woke up, got out of bed, and intended to spend the morning down by the creek on his property,

accompanied by his wife Nancy and their two young children.

Suddenly, shots rang out, the bullets ripping into the home. A band of armed men had appeared outside, seemingly out of nowhere.

Nancy screamed for her husband to run.

As he tried to escape out of the home on foot, a man named Ferguson overtook him on horseback and shot him.

Coker threw up his arms and said something, but Nancy couldn't make out his words over the sound of the children's screaming.

Severely wounded, Elijah staggered to his feet under what must have been a rush of pure adrenaline.

Shots continued to ring out as he ran toward a fence, some 50 yards from his home.

With Ferguson and nine other men in close pursuit, Elijah reached the fence. ring out as he ran toward a fence, some 50 yards from his home.

With Ferguson and nine other men in close pursuit, Elijah reached the fence.

When he struggled to pull himself over it, Ferguson rode up close to him and shot him

one more time. By the time Nancy reached the fence, their 11-year-old daughter, Sarah, had fought her way through the group of men to get to Elijah.

She was kneeling next to his body, holding her daddy in her arms.

She was covered in his blood.

When Nancy reached Elisha, he gasped once, but never spoke.

Nancy knelt beside her slain husband's body,

the sounds of laughter emanating from the house,

as Ferguson and his outlaw gang proceeded to ransack their home,

taking the cocker's horse along with their valuables.

This is the gruesome story of Champ Ferguson.

I'm Luke Lamanah, and this is wartime stories.... The American Civil War is strangely named.

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