Virginia Trip, My Buddy Jerry on Facebook, Excerpt From Upcoming Book

My Buddy Jerry with his twin brother V.M.I. Superintendent Francis Smith

       Lately, I've been giving my Virginia Civil Wargasm a lot of thought. That was a great trip and now I want to take Jerry, Mel, and my wife to Gettysburg. I've had the honor of visiting that battlefield twice. Like Franklin, Tennessee, it's one of my favorite fields. Although, the "what ifs" of that battle have been blown out of proportion, it's still fun for a Southerner to stand there and think of them.

       By the way, my buddy Jerry Smith is now on facebook and probably needs some friends, especially if you're a "good ole rebel." Very few people know this, but I've also rewritten my very first book which I think was poorly written. The first time is always the toughest, and I believe I've gotten better as I go. I thought it would be cool to use an excerpt here from the book that actually happened to a great Confederate officer from Louisiana named Roberdeau Chatham Wheat. The following comes from my upcoming book entitled Like A Stonewall. 

       Major Roberdeau Wheat, commander of the Louisiana Tigers walked up, gave a half hearted salute and gave Evans a rough pat on the back. The man was a giant at six feet, four inches. He weighted two hundred and seventy-five pounds. Wheat was an imposing man. He had be be to control his troops. The Louisiana Tigers were composed of ex-cons, dock workers, and some of the roughest Irishmen in the country. It took a man like Wheat to instill discipline on a group of that nature. The entire regiment wore the colorful zouve uniforms made famous by the French army. The majority of them had shaved their heads except for a small spot in the back that they pig-tail.

          His men were sunburned and muscular from hard labor on the docks of New Orleans. They were impressive looking men dressed in bright red shirts, blue and white striped baggy breeches, white gaiters, and the red fez. The fez was invented by Africans and adopted by the French while stationed in Morocco.

          Wheat's tigers loved the attention they receive from all the women. One Richmond journal has labeled them the most dangerous soldiers to ever march to a field of battle. That remained to be seen. They carried brass knuckles and bowie knives. Two of their officers have already fought a duel with each other and three privates have died from accidents.

          Evans figured he'd gotten command of the tigers because like them, he too was considered a bit rough around the edges. Evans liked Wheat. The man was quite jolly, never in a bad mood, always entertaining to be around. He seemed a bit immature for his thirty-five years. He's spent his life seeking adventure. Boredom was the one thing that would make Wheat sad. Wheat had  said he'd fought in the Mexican War for the pure pleasure of it. This war was just another adventure he'd embarked upon.

          Just two years younger than Evans, he looked and acted a lot younger. Evans thought of him as a boy, a huge boy. Wheat had a round face with a thin dark mustache. He was heavy, but not fat. His fingers reminded Evans of fat round sausages.

Major Chatham Roberdeau Wheat

Excerpt from the next time we meet Wheat in the book:

       “Take your tigers and charge the center of the Federal line,” Evans shouted as he pointed toward the Union position.

          “You got it,” Wheat yelled back. He turned and gave orders for his battalion to move forward across the field into what every one of them knew was close quarters combat.

          Evans watched the giant lead his men forward. They gave a yell as they began to charge. He watched them begin in the right direction, but they soon changed direction and moved toward the Federal artillery. It wasn't what he'd asked for. He couldn't believe his eyes. A large portion of his men threw down their weapons and charged with Bowie knives drawn. He watched them get within twenty-five yards of the enemy artillery pieces. Evans was in awe of his brave men who were fearless enough to charge enemy cannons with only knives drawn. Deep down, he knew they couldn't succeed. Men began to fall at every step from the combined artillery and infantry fire.

          The most conspicuous figure among the group was Major Roberdeau Wheat. The gentle giant was in front of his men shouting and waving his sword. At that moment, something caught Evans eye. Another Federal regiment was coming onto the field already in line of battle. He watched them lower their muskets and open fire on Wheat's battalion. Just as quickly as Wheat's charge had begun, it was over. He saw the Louisiana Tigers disappear in a cloud of smoke. When the smoke cleared, many of the fancy dressed men were on the ground. The survivors were racing back toward Evans main line. Major Wheat lay on the ground with his men.

Jerry and I at the grave of Major Roberdeau Wheat in Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia

Another excerpt for Wheat:

       The bullet had struck Roberdeau Wheat below the armpit, traveled through both lungs and exited his side. Two men attempted to carry the huge man toward the rear, but it was useless. He just weighed too much. One of the men recruited two more men and they placed Wheat in a blanket. It was all four men could do to lift the giant off the ground, but they were determined to get him to a surgeon. They weren't about to allow their brave commander to fall into Federal hands.

          Wheat coughed and blood ran down his clean shaven chin. They approached a split rail fence. Wheat gasped, “You may as well leave me here.”

          “Not gonna do it, Sir.” One of the men mumbled as he strained with the great weight.

          Another man nearby with a slight wound to his forearm moved over and said, “Better let me help.”

          They eased the blanket on the ground. The five of them took his arms, legs, while the other supported his head. They struggled to get him over the fence. Once across they placed him back on the blanket and struggled down the gentle rise toward the stream. Once over the stream, the real struggle began. They would have to lug the man over another fence and up Henry Hill. About half way up the hill they eased the blanket to the ground and collapsed around him in exhaustion.

       

A Pre-War photograph of Major Wheat

       As the surgeon began his inspection, Wheat coughed up more blood and asked, “How bad is it?”

          The surgeon cut Wheat's shirt away and found the entry hole. He reached around on the other side and found where the bullet had exited his body. Shot through both lungs, the surgeon understood that Roberdeau Wheat had seen his last battle. There was just no way he could possibly survive such a wound. He frowned and said, “It's damned bad. I'm just gonna be honest with you. Your wound is mortal. You need to make your peace with God before it's too late.”

          Wheat smiled. Well, I don't feel like dying just yet.”

          The surgeon was surprised at the lightness of Wheat's mood at such ghastly news. He believed the major was just too afraid to face the truth. He said, “There is no case on record of anyone with such a wound having survived. I'm sorry, Major.”

          Wheat attempted to laugh, but coughed up more blood. He said, “Then, Doc, I will put my case on record.”

You will also notice that it hasn't been to the editor yet. So does Wheat survive the tragic wound? Does he survive the war? I guess I could be ugly and make everyone wait on the book, but all you'd have to do is search Wikipedia. So here is the final excerpt pertaining to Roberdeau Wheat:

       Major Chatham Roberdeau Wheat who had been told he couldn't possibly survive being shot through both lungs did indeed put his case on record. Sadly, he would return to his command and be killed during the Battle of Gaines’ Mill almost a year later at the age of 36. He rests today in Hollywood Cemetery, Richmond, Virginia, which is considered the Arlington of the Confederacy. 

          

The Shiloh Commanders Killed

General Albert Sidney Johnston at Shiloh

       After writing a three part blog about the Confederate colonel's killed or mortally wounded at the Battle of Gettysburg, I decided to do the same for the regimental commanders and above killed at Shiloh. There weren't as many colonel's killed at Shiloh (nor at any other battle for that matter), so I decided to include anyone that commanded a regiment regardless of his rank when killed. 

       Colonel James Tappan who would later become a Confederate brigadier general was absent because of sickness at the Battle of Shiloh. Lieutenant Colonel Adam D. Grayson was in command of the 13th Arkansas Infantry on the first day of the battle. The 13th Arkansas was a part of A.P. Stewart's Brigade, of Clark's Division, Leonidas Polk's Corps at Shiloh. Grayson was mortally wounded and died 11 days later. Grayson was mortally wounded while leading a charge. No one knows the exact location of his grave to this day. Grayson, born in Tennessee, was 24 years old, had a wife and six kids. 

       Colonel A.K. Blythe was an attorney born in Tennessee when he arrived at Shiloh in command of the 44th Mississippi Infantry. At the time of the battle, the regiment was known as Blythe's Mississippi Regiment. When the war began in 1860, Colonel Blythe was 39 years old with a wife who was 28 years old. The couple had no children in 1860. They lived in Oakland, Mississippi Colonel Blythe was shot dead while leading his regiment forward on the first day of Shiloh. At the moment of his death, he was leading his men as a conspicuous target on horseback. 

Lieutenant Colonel David Luckie Herron

       When Colonel Blythe fell, Lieutenant Colonel David Luckie Herron took command of the 44th Mississippi Infantry. He was killed about 2 p.m. on the first day of the Battle of Shiloh. He was a pre-war prosperous farmer. He took command of the regiment following the death of Colonel Blythe. According to the 1860 census, there is no age and no state of birth. This confuses matters greatly. Looking at his photograph above, one might conclude that David Luckie Herron was not yet 40 years old. His body servant recovered his remains and brought them home to Coffeeville, Mississippi for burial. He rests there today. Colonel Herron was probably about 37 years old. 

       Charles Wickliffe commanded the 7th Kentucky Infantry at Shiloh. He was a graduate of West Point and was born in 1819. He had fought in the Mexican War and was a lawyer when that conflict was over. When he was killed at Shiloh, he had a wife and two sons back home in Kentucky. He was killed from wounds received on Monday near the end of the battle. He was leading his regiment forward attempting to regain control of the field from the Federals. He was forty-three years old. He rests today in Bardstown City Cemetery in Bardstown, Kentucky. 

General Albert Sidney Johnston

       The highest ranking field officer of the Civil War was Albert Sidney Johnston. I have already written a blog or two about him and won't go into repetitive detail here. For more information, see my blog on the great man from a year or so ago.

       Major Anatole Placide Avegno commanded the 13th Louisiana Infantry at Shiloh. He survived the first days fighting and was mortally wounded on April 7, 1862. He would die later the same die on the field of battle. His commander Randall Lee Gibson had been moved up to command of the brigade the day before. Major Avegno was 26 years old. He rests today in Saint Louis Cemetery Number 1 in New Orleans, Louisiana. 

Brigadier General Adley Hogan Gladden the other Confederate General killed at Shiloh

       Brigadier General Adley Hogan Gladden was the other Confederate General that fell at Shiloh. I recently took my brother-in-law, his son, and our father-in-law to Shiloh and showed them the spot on the field where General Gladden fell. In the visitor center is the sword of General Gladden. I explained to them how important this sword happens to be because I have held a sword that belonged to Nathan Bedford Forrest after the war and the diary that was in Brigadier General Lewis Henry Little's pocket when he was killed at Iuka. I can never complain in my old age (which happens to be very soon for me) about not being treated right. I can never complain because I have had opportunities that I never thought I'd get with Confederate general's personal belongings. 

       Lieutenant Colonel William A. Rankin commanded the 9th Mississippi Infantry at the Battle of Shiloh. He was wounded during the battle and died six or seven days later in Corinth, Mississippi. To learn more about how these guys returned to Corinth, read my book called "Betrayed." 

       

Lieutenant Colonel John M. Dean of the 7th Arkansas Infantry

       John Dean was killed at Shiloh leading the 7th Arkansas Infantry as a part of Hindman's brigade at the battle. He has a stone at Oakwood Cemetery at Spartanburg, South Carolina, yet that stone is a cenotaph, his body was buried on the field and never recovered. His body probably still rests in a trench at Shiloh today. 

       Archibald Kennedy Patton fell at Shiloh on the first day of battle on April 6, 1862. He was forty-two years old. As commander of the 15th Arkansas Infantry, a regiment in Patrick Cleburne's Brigade of Hardee's Corps at the battle. 

       Christopher Harris "Kit" Williams, colonel of the 27th Tennessee Infantry was killed on the first day of the Battle of Shiloh. The regiment lost over half of its command on the first day at Shiloh. They served at Shiloh under the command of S.A.M. Wood and his brigade served in Hardee's Corps. Colonel Williams was 32 years old at the time of his death. He rests today on Cedar Grove Plantation in Yazoo City, Mississippi. 

       When Colonel Williams fell, his second in command Major Samuel T. Love took command of the regiment. Once Colonel Williams and his second in command Lieutenant Colonel Blackburn Brown was severally wounded, Major Samuel T. Love took command of the regiment. He too would fall in the great Battle of Shiloh. Commanding the 27th Tennessee Infantry, he would be mortally wounded and captured. Carried north to Mound City, Illinois, he would die there and be buried in Mound City National Cemetery, something that rarely happened to Confederate soldiers. 

       

Lucius Rich's Gravestone

       The biggest surprise of all for me when writing this blog was the founding of Colonel Lucuis Lyon Rich's grave in Mobile, Alabama. I've actually spent quite a bit of time with my good buddy Jerry searching Magnolia Cemetery in Mobile, Alabama. I had been told by Confederate General John Bell Hood's nephew when I was writing my book "Die Like Men" that his good West Point friend Lucius Rich had fought for the north and died in battle at Shiloh. I was surprised to find that Lucius Rich was a Confederate colonel that died at Shiloh and was buried at Shiloh. I can't blame Sam Hood (the nephew of John Bell Hood for this mistake, more than likely it was my mistake because of my ADD, I probably heard what I wanted to hear). Nevertheless, I now know that Lucius Rich was mortally wounded at Shiloh, brought back to Okolona, Mississippi where he died two months after being wounded in Tennessee. 

       This brings us to the last of the regimental commanders that served and died at Shiloh. Colonel Charles G. Nelms (listed in the Official Records as Charles S. Nelms) was mortally wounded on the last day of the Battle of Shiloh on April 7, 1862. He died 8 days later on April 15, 1862. At the time he was in command of the 22nd Mississippi Infantry. His regiment was a part of Statham's Brigade of Breckinridge's Reserve Corps. Either way, he led a regiment against a vastly superior Federal force and gave his life leading him men in defense of their homeland. 

       I carried my wife's sister's husband, their son, and my father-in-law on a tour of this magnificent battlefield this past Friday. The next task I have before me is carrying Shirley McKenzie and her family on a tour of this battlefield, but I have to carry them with my best Civil War buddy Jerry Smith to do things right. Jerry won't allow me to return home and latter that night remember something I left out that I never should have. That is the most difficult part of all. All I have to say is get yourself ready for the tour, Shirley!!!!

Civil Wargasm #3

Me and James "Beasley" Howard at the grave of General Pillow

       About two months ago, Jerry and I decided to go on another Civil Wargasm. We thought it would be fun to ask two of our buddies along, James Howard and Lanny Perry. Unfortunately, Lanny's wife wouldn't let him miss any work, but James was game. We planned to head to Memphis and hit Elmwood Cemetery and then travel to the grave of Jerry's hero, Nathan Bedford Forrest.

       The trip got off to a slow start when James (who happens to be 49 years old) couldn't seem to get away from his mom. They stood on the front porch (I didn't want to be nosy so I never looked to see if they were hugging or not) for several minutes. I was beginning to wonder about James. Perhaps his mother had been told some bad things about Jerry and myself. I immediately decided that it had to be Jerry who she thought was the bad influence and my mind was put to ease. 

General Vaughan's Desk

       The three of us left for Memphis and discussed my favorite subject the entire way, the war of course. We soon arrived in Elmwood and entered the office to find a map. Inside the office was the desk (the actual word is secretariat) that belonged to Confederate Brigadier General Alfred Jefferson Vaughan who is also buried in Elmwood.

       We purchased a map showing the burial places of all prominent people buried in Elmwood. There are eleven Confederate general's buried there not to mention some militia general's and two Federal general's. We left the office and struck out for the nearest grave. We found the grave of Major General James Patton Anderson first. Not wanting anything to be unusual about this trip, I managed to attract a wierdo. The fellow gave us a brief lesson on General Anderson and mentioned the general was buried in the poor section of the cemetery. He told us he just couldn't grasp why a major general would be buried among the poor. I explained to him the general was in financial trouble after the war as most Southerner's were. The man looked at me with a confused look on his face and said, "I just can't imagine why he is buried over here." Oh, well, I tried. 

       

Me with Brigadier General Preston Smith

       We found all the generals, although we were followed and greatly distracted by my wierdo. We were regaled with tales from one end of the planet to the other and time began to become a factor. I got a picture of myself at the grave of one of my hero's, General Preston Smith who was killed at Chickamauga after riding forward in the darkness to locate the Federal main line. Among the other generals we found in Elmwood were Elkanah Greer, Alfred Jefferson Vaughan, Gideon Pillow, William Humes, Lucius Marshall Walker, James Chalmers, William H. Carroll, George W. Gordon, Robert V. Richardson, and William M. Gardner. 

       Before leaving the cemetery, Jerry found a dog monument with an actual flea collar around its neck. Obviously, Jerry thought this was a waste and James and I had to talk him out of taking the collar home to use on his Dachshund named Pumpkin. James did learn that when you don't have a door covering your memory card on your camera and you swing it around like a mad man, your apt to lose the card. (By the way, if anyone comes across a memory card in the Forrest family section of Elmwood, please contact James Beasley). 

Jerry thought this fluorescent collar would make Pumpkin look good

       The best part of the trip was saved for last. We headed down town to Forrest Park where the "Wizard of the Saddle" himself is buried. The fearless commander who struck fear in the hearts of all Federal troops including Grant himself, happens to be Jerry's hero of hero's. I thought we would arrive to see Jerry well up in tears, rushing from the car to the giant monument, but Jerry never fails to surprise me. 

Two rednecks trying to operate a parking meter

       Instead, he and James spent the next fifteen minutes trying to figure out how to operate the parking meter. I decided to press on to the monument alone while they beat, banged and twisted the meter mercilessly. They finally arrived at the huge monument (I'm still not certain who won, but I'm putting my money on the meter). As we walked around the monument in awe of the great man, I continued to check Jerry's eyes for moisture. Jerry was not to be outdone. He understood that if he shed one single tear I would never let him forget it. I walked over to Jerry and asked, "What do you think?" He replied simply, "That stud horse is anatomically correct. Just look at that thing." What could I say? Just another typical Civil Wargasm with Jerry.

Jerry and me in front of Forrest's grave

Guest Blog by Tim's Wife on the 150th Re enactment of the Battle of Shiloh

Tim, me and Carlee taking a break

On Thursday afternoon of the re-enactment the confederate army marched out of camp to do a little fighting and try to experience a little of what the soldiers did way back when, including sleeping on the ground all night.  It was extremely hot this afternoon and I thought I was going to be seriously ill for a few minutes but I forgot all about it when we started firing on the Yankees.  There is nothing like holding an original 1855 Harpers Ferry in your hands and actually getting to shoot it.  (Still can't believe Tim lets me use this!) We did this off and on for a couple of hours with a few breaks in between.  Then our fearless leaders lead us to the campsite for the night.  In my mind I had imagined  we would be lying in a field under the beautiful dark night with the stars scattered above us.  Wrong!  I was jerked from my fantasy when we were told to go up into the tree line of the woods behind us and pick a spot.  The woods?  You have got to be kidding!  Ticks, spiders and chiggers! Oh my!  Luckily Tim's best friend Jerry was with us and we stayed together and whatever scent Jerry had on attracted all the ticks from our vicinity. 

Jerry waiting to go fight

Darkness began to fall and we were all lazing on our blanket rolls talking when all of a sudden Tim Kent and Jerry Smith started doing what they do best.  Storytelling.  They told stories about aunts turning into mules, small killer spiders, boiling cats, and who knows what else.  All I know is after a few hours of this I was begging them to stop because my sides were hurting so bad.  Not to mention our fellow soldiers scattered around us.  Needless to say they kept us entertained.

After things had calmed down a bit we started hearing rumors about a night fight.  Sure enough here comes the word to get up and go.  So we jumped up, put on our gear and marched as silently as we could through the night.  Unfortunately we didn't get very close but did get to shoot a few times.

The one good thing about it was I was finally worn out enough to actually get a little sleep.  Waking only when some part of my body that was on the ground either went to sleep or started hurting really bad.  

Tim and Captain Hunter waiting on the word to go in

I know it's not even close to what the soldiers went through 150 years ago but I can say those poor guys had it rough.  I definitely have a renewed respect for these brave men.