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. 

          

John Echols: Noble Leader

Brigadier General John Echols

       John Echols was born on March 20, 1823 in Lynchburg, Virginia. He attended the Virginia Military Institute, but earned his degree at Washington College in Lexington, Virginia (which would become Washington and Lee University following the war). He then studied law at Harvard and began a law practice in Union, Virginia (now West Virginia). 

       Echols was a huge man for the time, standing six feet, four inches in height and weighing over 260 pounds. Despite his imposing size, he was a likable person and gallant officer. Prior to the war, he served one term in the Virginia House of Delegates. Following Virginia's secession, Echols became lieutenant colonel of the 27th Virginia Infantry Regiment. He commanded the regiment at the Battle of Manassas. The unit was part of the famed Stonewall Brigade there. Following the battle, he was promoted to colonel of the regiment. Stonewall Jackson described Echols as a "noble leader." 

        At the disastrous Battle of Kernstown, Echols led his regiment as they repulsed two charges by the Federal troops. At the height of the assault, Echols was shot through the shoulder, the bullet entering his arm and fracturing the humerus. Although he was out of action for several weeks, he would luckily not lose the arm. Following the battle, Echols was promoted to brigadier general. 

       He was back in command of a brigade by the fall of 1862. He was placed in command of the Department of Southwestern Virginia, yet resigned his command before serving a month. Echols seems to have suffered from ill health and was unable to return to command until the summer of 1863. His next action was at the Battle of Droop Mountain where he commanded 1,200 troops against 5,000 Federals. Though vastly outnumbered, he held his position for over an hour before withdrawing. He had been defeated, but his reputation wasn't affected in the least. 

       His brigade was placed under Major General John C. Breckinridge's command at the Battle of New Market (which became famous because of the service there of the V.M.I. Cadets). Echols brigade helped Breckinridge secure a victory. Soon after the battle, he again was forced to relinquish his command because of "neuralgia of the heart." The disease causes severe pains in the chest. 

       Echols returned to duty as the commander of the District of Southwest Virginia in August of 1864. He defeated a Federal force at the Battle of Saltville in October of that year. When he learned of Lee's retreat from Petersburg and Richmond, he gathered a force of 7,000 men and marched to meet Lee. He learned of Lee's surrender while moving to meet him. Echols then moved his command to join Joseph E. Johnston's army in North Carolina. When Johnston surrendered, Echols fled with the Confederate government in an attempt to escape the country without being forced to surrender. He was captured at Augusta, Georgia. 

A post-war image of John Echols

       Echols eventually settled in Staunton (pronounced Stanton), Virginia (having spent almost all the war in the Shenandoah Valley). He would see work as a banker, run a railroad, and serve on the board at Washington and Lee University. Despite years of health problems, Echols would live until 1896, dying of kidney disease in Stuanton, Virginia. He was 73 years old. He rests today in Thornrose Cemetery in that city. 

Jerry and I at the grave of John Echols (Echols rests just to my right about even with the second block up)

A variant of the first image of John Echols

       

A Sad Tragic End

Philip St. George Cocke

       Philip St. George Cocke was born in 1809 in Virginia. His father had served as an officer in the War of 1812 and secured Philip with an appointment at the United States Military Academy. He graduated from West Point in 1828, ranking sixth out of forty-five cadets. He would serve in the artillery for six years before resigning to return to Virginia where he would become a planter. He would devote the rest of his life to the management of his plantation in Powhatan County, Virginia and other plantations he owned in Mississippi. 

       The same year he resigned, he married Sallie Elizabeth Courtney Bowdoin. Cocke became very interested in agriculture and believed in trying new techniques with his crops. As a result, he wrote numerous articles about planting and eventually rose to become president of the Virginia Agricultural Society. He also served on the board of visitors at the Virginia Military Institute. 

       When Virginia seceded, Cocke was made brigadier general in the Virginia militia and ordered to protect the area just south of the Potomac River. He reported to Robert E. Lee that he had just three hundred men to protect Alexandria, Virginia with against what he thought were over 10,000 enemy troops. Lee implored Cocke to not abandon the town even if it meant fighting against overwhelming numbers. Despite Lee’s pleas, Cocke abandoned the town without a fight. 

Cocke around the time the war began

       Despite this failure in the eyes of Lee, Cocke had studied the terrain around Manassas and it seems he was the first to conceive of that place as the ideal place to make a defensive stand. When Cocke’s troops were merged into the Provisional Army of the Confederate States, he was made a colonel in that army. Cocke was dejected and may have considered resigning, but General Lee must have convinced the man he was needed. 

       Beauregard took command of the army at Manassas and placed Cocke in command of a brigade. The man saw minor action at Blackburn’s Ford and was praised for leading his brigade into combat during the Battle of Manassas, although his was a minor engagement. After the battle, President Davis promoted Cocke to brigadier general in the Confederate army. 

       At this point, General Cocke’s life began to spiral downward. He seemed to have been suffering from what would later be called a nervous breakdown. When Eppa Hunton’s regiment was assigned to Cocke’s brigade, he was invited to eat dinner with the man. While he and Cocke rode back to the general’s tent, he suddenly blurted out, “My God, my God, my country!”

       This shocked Hunton and he was of the opinion from that moment forward that Cocke’s mind was a little off. The man had been in the field for eight months with huge responsibilities resting on him. Responsibilities that he didn’t seem capable of coping with. A few weeks later he returned home and as one Confederate noted, he was “shattered in body and mind.” 

Belmead Plantation

       He perceived imaginary slights from General Beauregard on his conduct at the Battle of Manassas. (In fact Beauregard had nothing but praise for Cocke’s performance there.) The man was mentally exhausted having placed too much pressure on himself and his actions. On December 26, 1861, he shot himself in the head at “Belmead” mansion, Powhatan, Virginia and was buried on the grounds there. In 1904, he would be reinterred in  Hollywood Cemetery, Richmond, Virginia which is known at “the Arlington of the Confederacy.”

       Eppa Hunton may have summed it up best when he had the following to say about General Philip Cocke, “he was a brave man, a good man, an earnest patriot, but he was not a military man.” 

Cocke's grave in Hollywood Cemetery