All my experiences of living in the Proving Grounds were limited because my family moved away in 1941 when I was 5 years old.  My earliest memories are of the home place.  My great-grandfather John Busch and his wife and their first four children, Hannah, Elizabeth, John, and Ann, were born in Prussia.  They came to this country on February 28, 1849 and arrived in Ripley County when John was about 40 years of age.   John purchased 120 acres in Jefferson County just north of Big Creek and south of Marble Corner.  The farm bordered the Jefferson-Ripley County line on the north side and the road now known as the Center Recovery Road on the west side.  Two more children were born in the new country, Jake and Michael. 

My grandfather Michael and his wife Catherine had seven children, Mary, Catherine, John, Anna, Elizabeth, Bernard, and Michael.  My Aunt Catherine and Uncle John died in 1901 of typhoid fever three weeks apart at ages 20 and 19.  Typhoid again struck the family in 1929 when Bernard, my dad, and Uncle Mike both spent time at King’s Daughter’s Hospital in Madison.  They both recovered, but my grandmother was worn down with nursing them, she took sick and died a week later at King’s Daughter’s Hospital at 86 years of age.     

My mother, Dorothy, was born in 1903 in Millersburg north of Indianapolis.  She was the first child of Jefferson and Alice Sammons.  Dorothy, her parents, and a brother Clarence moved to a farm in Jennings County at the intersection of Jefferson, Ripley, and Jennings Counties. My mother’s brother Harold and sister Faye were born on that farm.

My dad, Bernard Busch, and my mom, Dorothy Sammons, were married by Father Bloemke and were members of St. Magdalene Parish. They lived on the 120-acre farm that had been in the family many years.  I was born in January 1936 and was delivered by Dr. Denny.  The doctor told my dad, “He is a fine boy, Bernard, even if you had to wait 50 years to get him.” The year 1936 had one of the coldest winters and one of the hottest summers on record.  I got toughened up early as there were no modern heating or cooling systems—just use the wood stove or open up the windows.

My time in Jefferson County was short but was a distinct and vivid time for me.  I have vivid memories of the homestead even though I was at a young age.  Early recollections of the neighborhood were the trashing rings, corn shredding rings, and butchering when all the neighbors came to our place.  It was a time of excitement for a small boy.  The men would do the working and the women would do the cooking.    The effects of the great depression were still going on and everybody pretty well stuck together. 

Our ‘29 Buick coupe with its rumble seat was our chariot.  It had a wooden steering wheel and wood spoke wheels.  Louis Hill was the car dealer who sold Dad the Buick.  Pulling up the hill at Hanging Rock on icy roads was tense.  I remember when Dad stopped at Custer’s store in Marble Corner for alcohol antifreeze as we were returning from St. Magdalene Church on a cold morning.   The wind blowing through the big pine trees in the church yard made a lonesome sound.  It seemed strange to see big trees there for the surrounding area was all flat with no trees.  

I can still see Dad sitting on the edge of the concrete water trough in the barnyard having a heated discussion with Uncle Mike.  Dad had hold of the halter of a big white horse.  Uncle Mike and Aunt Laura wanted to take the horse home.  But the horse stayed with Dad.  When I asked about it later, Dad didn’t have much to say; I don’t know who was right or wrong.   The only things recognizable at the home place today are the four corners of the foundation of the barn and that concrete water trough! 

It was so cold riding in a box-bed wagon as Dad and Mom shucked corn in the field.  I remember the sights and sounds of neighbors helping with hog butchering and that crock of head cheese on the stair steps.  I also remember our trip to the sorghum mill with cane to be made into molasses.  Mom traded eggs at Custer’s store for coal oil and basic needs.  Most of our food came from canning and processing our own vegetables and meat on the farm.  To a five-year old in 1941, these were the good old days! 

I recall Dad’s encounter with his new false teeth.  The dentist in Madison sent him home with a new set of false teeth and all seemed well until he tried to take them out.  They would not budge and he seemed very perturbed.  He said if they didn’t come out he was going back to the dentist that evening to get those teeth out!  After much tugging and pulling they came out, but he never wore them again!  That is, until he was in his casket. 

Then I recall Dad making dead furrows in the “Buttermilk Flats” field on the north end of the farm.  He used a horse to pull a section of log to make the furrows.  This ground between Marble Corner and St. Magdalene didn’t seem capable of supporting much of anything.  Our neighbor, I don’t know who, asked for help to retrieve a stuck John Deere tractor in a corn field.  The tractor had cultivators attached and those steel wheels really dug in deep.  We didn’t get the tractor out and had to wait for the corn field to dry up to pull the tractor out.

Dad and I stopped occasionally at the tavern at the bottom of Madison Hill for a glass of beer for him and a sarsaparilla for me.  I think it was Vestal’s Tavern.  Dad bought me a wind-up motorcycle with a rider on it.  He got a big kick out of watching it go around on the kitchen floor. Mom said he liked it better than I did.  I have a faint memory of the mole trap that pinched my fingers when I tripped it as I explored the trap set in the yard.  I don’t have a memory of the big rooster flogging me with his spurs and making that scar over my left eye.  But that rooster went in the stew pot! 

At one time Busch’s Woods was known for dances under the trees right there along the county road.  It was a well-known attraction.  Dad hung lanterns in the trees for the dances.  Later, wanting a better light he went to Madison and bought an Aladdin double- mantel gas lantern with a very ornate globe; I still have this lamp.  Aunt Faye’s husband, Uncle Clarence Stark, used to comment about how he worked for my dad clearing out the underbrush getting ready for the dances.          

I remember going to visit Aunt Mame, Dad’s oldest sister, and her husband, Uncle Pete, in north Madison.  It was a cold day and she had coal that she put in the stove to keep warm.  Of course, what I remember was mostly in winter. 

My dad was deeply hurt by the forced move when the government took his land for the proving grounds.  He would not visit the Jefferson Proving Grounds after we left.  The farm had been in the family for generations; it was the home place and my dad fully expected to spend all his days there.  After having lost $10,000 in the Dupont bank failure in the depression, being uprooted by the US government, and having to locate quite a distance from his home, with a broken spirit Dad resigned himself to never having any part in his home again.  All this led to a shortening of his life; he died in 1950 when I was just 14 years old.  My mother spoke often of the community but my father seldom mentioned it.  One of Dad’s old friends was Everet Munier and Dad did talk often about the Munier family.  Some of them lived close to our farm.

 I had no contact with the Proving Grounds after my family moved away until 2002 when the JPGHP had their first seminar in Madison.  By pure luck, I found a notice of the seminar on the internet after hearing about it on the Batesville radio station.  When I arrived at the seminar and registered someone asked me if I was Bernard Busch’s son.  I was so amazed to hear anyone mention my dad’s name.  In a few minutes I was talking to Louis Munier who knew my dad!  My first contact with the JPGHP was Louis Munier which brought back memories and talk of folks I thought I would never hear again.  

When I learned of this group, it was a great opportunity to research the past.  There is a great story here that needs to be available for future generations.  I give many thanks to this group for putting reality to these memories.