Scars of Bravery: the Dillings Tale Ends

When Jim Snyder, president of the Blair County Genealogical Society, talked of investigating one of many abandoned cemeteries in Blair County, and specifically Morrisons Cove, little did one realize the back stories that would pop to the surface, especially regarding the Dilling family, one of the earliest to stake out a tract and throw a plow into the sod in the Martinsburg area.

Catherine, Henry and George Dilling, three unmarried siblings living on a farm in Huston Township between Clover Creek and Piney Creek, have been identified by Snyder as three of the eight being buried in the now tumbled-down final resting place.

They are names with direct links to Casper Dilling, one of the first Cove settlers who carried to their death scars of their valiant bravery to defend their home and property.

Several history writers speak of the three Dillings and their defense against thieves, but no account is as colorful or as spellbinding as that provided by Ella Snowberger in her Recollections of Bygone Days in the Cove.

Snowberger, who wrote this installment in 1933, proudly laid claim to being a leaf on the Dilling family tree and tells the tale of courage and strength long linked to the family.

The year was 1880 and we pick up the story of the three Dillings siblings, suspicious of a couple of overly friendly hobos stopping at the farmhouse for a couple sandwiches.

The odd actions of horses belonging to Henry Rodman, a friend and neighbor, prompted the Dillings to forgo evening chores and wait out the next move by the two interlopers believed to be holed up the barn.

As the trio was eating supper, a knock on the door prompted a quick response by George Dilling, who immediately found one of the two suspicious strangers making a lunge for him, an action termed by Snowberger as “a flying tackle.”

Brother Henry rose to the occasion only to be grabbed by the second man who had moved into the farmhouse kitchen.

“Then ensued one of the bloodiest and most brutal struggles known in the annals of the Cove,” wrote Snowberger.

While the two were lacking in guns or knives, they were wearing brass knuckles.

“The Dillings were game. They put up a terrific fight that they actually got the best of the marauders,” Snowberger said, relating the tale as told to her by a Dilling relative from Altoona a half century later.

When the dust had settled, all 12 panels on the sturdy front door were kicked out, the kitchen cupboard upset and the kitchen furniture had the look of a tornado that had blown through.

George had pinned his assailant to the basement door, and Henry, although a cripple, had secured the second assailant, but the battle was not over.

Catherine, intent on alerting the neighbors and securing their help, opened a back window to gain access to the dinner bell.

But the robber being held by the weaker Henry read their thoughts and went after Catherine.

“He slugged her in the face as she was crawling through the windows,” Snowberger wrote.

“Blinded by the blood streaming down the eyes, the woman nevertheless reached the bell and rang for dear life.”

The burglars broke from any hold the brothers held on them and made their escape.

Catherine’s forehead was torn open by the brass knuckles and blood poured over her face.

Henry had to empty blood from one of his boots and George’s face was a mass of bruises.

“Catherine carried the scar of the wound she received to her grave,” Snowberger wrote.

Neighbors speaking of the attack later recalled that on that day, two strangers had attempted to purchase ammunition but the shopkeeper at the Mines refused to sell them any.