Many of the buildings like the barracks are still standing and are there as historical locations.
I knew the Civil War had made its way to Texas, and that the Western part of the war (Missouri and Arkansas as well) hardly gets any mention. Per wiki, Rip Ford occupied the fort in 1861 and was run out by Nathaniel Banks in 1863, until Ford and James Slaughter took it back in 1864, and by the end of the war, it was a location that was becoming irrelevant. Ford won a post-Appomattox battle at Palmito Ranch, considered the last battle of the war.
Brownsville stuck out in my mind, though and I couldn't place it, though obviously the Cub Koda band stuck out. Then I looked and remembered, one of the truly sad moments of American History, the Brownsville raid. You can read about it, but the short version is that in 1906, a regiment of Buffalo Soldiers were garrisoned there. A white bartender in the town was killed and the soldiers blamed. The soldiers were in the fort all night, but evidence was planted. A hearing was held, and the testimony of the townspeople was taken. President Theodore Roosevelt dishonorably discharged 167of the soldiers. It was only until the 1970s where their good names have been restored and the truth finally won out.
This was also where the first airplane was used in combat to fight Pancho Villa
It is also where the Border Wall is. Despite Trump's insistence that he is building it (and Mexico is paying for it). There already is a wall in this area and we were able to see it.

MSNBC's picture, not mine. But it looks a bit like this and it isn't terribly exciting.
The 18-foot fence was built in 2009 (So under Obama) and is unforgiving in its mission. Which means that it cuts through a family farm.
Most bizarrely, though (and it's clear from the signs still standing) it goes right through a golf course.
To steal the USA Today headline from last year, the golf course stood no course. Indeed, the low-cost option golf course which had been owned by a small businessman for 30 years, saw his profits drop wildly when it was voted for in 2006, and put out of business altogether soon after 2011 when it became part of a turf war- his turf being one the US wanted to defend but not protect.
Much of the golf business in this area has always come from “Winter Texans,” visitors from chillier climes who would come chasing reasonably priced rounds and warmer weather. For the most part, they wanted no part of Fort Brown once the difficulties kicked in.
“It is pretty sad,” said Celso Medina, who runs Golf Headquarters, an impressive golf store in Brownsville. “It's a personal thing, (it was) one of my favorite golf courses. That's where I really learned to play the game actually.
“(It was) very affordable mostly for the average person that couldn't afford to play at a country club. It really hurt.”
Lucio gets emotional when he sees the site now. Like Medina and Prepejchal, he remembers fun nights with the guys, when dozens of players would sit and barbecue and knock back beers hours after darkness called a halt to play.
No longer. It has taken just a few years for derelict course equipment to get swallowed by nature. A large pond that once needed to be avoided by players is now dry, with the balls of so many errant shots wedged in the dried mud.
Lucio tried to disguise the fence by putting up a course sign on it, tried to make it look like an entrance and not a stark reminder of political divisions. Perception is king, though, and it didn’t have much impact.
Yet here is the puzzling thing about the course and the border and just the odd nature of the U.S. and its interactions with Mexico. You can easily get onto the course from Mexico by crossing the river. The river is less than 50 feet across in some spots, and the water is usually slow moving.
The fence is there, but there is a gap in it you can drive through. At times the border agents are there, at others they are not, either patrolling the scrubland or just off duty. At those unattended moments, anyone can just walk through and be on the streets of Brownsville within a minute or so.
As Bob Lucio moves through it, he first takes a look back, then across to the fence. He gives a deep sigh and a small shake of his head.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “I didn’t get it then, and I still don’t. I have lived here all my life, and we used to celebrate our joint history with Mexico. When I put my time into the course, it was because I thought I’d be here forever.”