John Cantilion was a tall, handsome soldier when he stepped into Ordnance Sergeant Lewis Leffman's office at Fort Niagara. The old sergeant was somewhat of a legend in the Niagara area. He had fought with Wellington's Hanovian forces at Waterloo in 1815. Shortly after he joined the British army and shipped to Canada. His next assignment was to have been the disease-plagued islands in the south, so he arranged an early departure to Hancock Barracks, Sackets Harbor, New York, where he enlisted at twenty seven in the United States Army, 30 August 1829. He was a tough disciplinarian. Among other achievements, he was reputed to be the best drill sergeant in the entire army.
Cantilion, in awe of Sergeant Leffman, was even more nervous than usual on that spring morning in 1862. He was about to ask Leffman for his only daughter's hand in marriage. Sarah Leffman was a lovely woman at age 37. Her Irish and German heritage had blended into a tall willowy person. In her youth, she had married John Ledger and had two daughters by him before he died.
John Cantilion held a strong appeal for Sarah. Except for fiery brown eyes and tall stature, he reminded her of her father. They were both attractive men and they both seemed to have the military in their blood. Maybe that was why Leffman embraced his future son-in-law, and now Sarah and the children would move out.
John was a private in the 4th Regiment of the United States Cavalry, clashing in his dark-blue uniform with its yellow trim and polished riding boots. His five-year enlistment was coming to an end. Sarah wanted him to get out of the army and get a job in the area. In fact, there had been talk that the 1678 fort was about to get some much needed renovations and, with her father commanding the installation, John could look forward to a good construction job.
The marriage took place 22 May up the Niagara River in the tiny hamlet of Lewiston. Under the eye of the Reverend Mr. Page.
Even as they greeted friends in the bright sunshine outside St. Paul's Episcopal Church, there was an uneasiness in John's stomach. He loved his wife, but he was not sure of his built-in family. Young Sarah was four, and Hetty was just a baby. Almost suddenly he had responsibilities and he was not sure how that would compare with the derring-do of life in the cavalry should he remain. He had made some strong friends during his first enlistment, and there were signs the excitement of battle would soon be on them again. John had tasted the fury of combat during fifteen engagements with the Mexicans and Rebels over the years. He had "seen the elephant" and he liked the smell of black powder, sweaty horseflesh and the total confusion of battle. In the last fight, he had taken a Mini ball in his leg. It was a glancing shot, but his shinbone was still sore enough to cause a slight limp whenever he thought about it. John was not a complainer however, and he considered his wound just another experience expected of a career soldier.
The Confederate invasion of Cumberland County in June and July of 1863 has left marks remaining to be seen 135 years later. All who are familiar with Robert G. Crist's pamphlet on the "Confederate Invasion of the West Shore-1863” know of the effort to fortify the higher points of Hummel Hill at Bridgeport (later Lemoyne).
Cumberland County has played host to Prisoners of War at times during its history, most notably during the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and during World War II.