A Mississippi Civil War Gasm

Me at the grave of Brigadier General Joseph L. Hogg

       Well, I finally had a day off without kids to baby sit and went on a mini-Civil War Gasm with my buddy Jerry in Mississippi. If you know Jerry, you know we had a blast. We have begun a hobby of visiting as many Confederate generals graves as possible and having our pictures taken with them. Our first stop was in Corinth, Mississippi at the museum located on the site of Battery Robinette where Confederate Brigadier General Joseph Lewis Hogg is buried. He didn't die in battle here, but from dysentery about three months after his promotion to brigadier general and without seeing any action whatsoever. Colonel William Peleg Rogers is also buried there, killed in the charge that overran the small earthen fort. He commanded a brigade in the action there and by all rights should have been a general officer. Despite the fact that a petition was signed begging President Davis to promote the man, he remained a colonel. The reason being that he and Davis had an argument during the Mexican War and Davis being the type person who held grudges would never forgive Rogers. 

       This brings us to the funny part of the story. Jerry and I wore our shell jackets on this trip. We were in a hurry because after all it was a Civil War Gasm. (Civil War Gasm definition is where you hit as many places as quickly as possible and we had places to go before dark.) We entered the museum to find the park ranger talking to a group of people. The entire group paused to watch us pass right by and out the back door of the museum at a high rate of speed. We exited the museum and walked around to the gate to find it locked. We then re-entered the museum by a side door and exited through another door out of sight of the ranger and group. We made each others picture beside General Hogg and Colonel Rogers graves, walked back around the building to Jerry's truck and left. It was only later that we decided that this is how ghost stories begin. We can just imagine someday reading about ourselves as the park ranger writes a book about the first sergeant and private that passed right through the museum and beyond a locked gate to be seen no more. 

Me at the grave of Colonel William Rogers one of my personal hero's.

       We left Corinth and headed southwest toward Ripley, Mississippi. About six miles beyond Ripley is a small town called Blue Mountain. Here in Blue Mountain Cemetery is the resting place of Brigadier General Mark Perrin Lowrey. His grave was easy enough to find, the cemetery not much more than an acre and his being the only one with an obelisk. General Lowrey was one of Patrick Cleburne's brigade commanders. He had fought in the Mexican War and returned home determined to become a preacher. Despite the fact that he couldn't read or write, he proceeded to accomplish his goal. His wife taught him reading and writing and he became a Baptist minister. He rose to the rank of general during the Civil War and following the war returned to the ministry and also founded a female college in Blue Mountain which later became Blue Mountain College. He died in the railroad depot in Middleton, Tennessee while awaiting a passenger train. 

Grave of Mark Perrin Lowrey

       Leaving Blue Mountain, Mississippi, Jerry called my attention to something I had never realized before. It seems the laws of mathematics cease to exist in this old southern state. We arrived at a sign that declared the intersection a four way stop. The problem was, we only counted three roads. One might think this was a simple accident, but we'll come back to this later. 

       We then drove west to Holly Springs, Mississippi where there are four generals buried in one cemetery. We arrived and entered the first cemetery entrance we came to. There on the right within twenty feet of the entrance we found the grave of Major General Edward Cary Walthall. If you know my luck, you'll know this was a complete accident. Walthall was the little known Confederate general that Forrest chose to help him fight the rear-guard for Hood during the retreat from Nashville. It would prove to be Walthall's best performance of the war. 

Major General Edward Cary Walthall

       We then got lucky and found the graves of Samuel Benton and Winfield Scott Featherston. Benton was only a colonel leading a brigade at the Battle of Atlanta when artillery shrapnel nearly tore his foot off and a piece lodged just inches from his heart. His foot would be amputated and his promotion to brigadier general would arrive from Richmond just two days before his death. The authorities in Richmond had not known he'd been wounded. 

Brigadier General Samuel Benton

       Brigadier General Winfield Scott Featherston began the war in the Virginia army and made a name for himself at the Battle of Ball's Bluff. From that point on he would serve as a capable officer but made no special name for himself. He would be shipped to the west where he would finish the war with the Army of Tennessee. His grave was as easy to find as Walthall's which was a good thing because it was about a ten degree windchill factor and I told Jerry that if a limb was to hit my ear, it would shatter like glass. 

Brigadier General Winfield Scott Featherston

       This brought us to the most difficult part of finding Brigadier General Daniel Chevilette Govan's grave. His marker is relatively flat without the enormous obelisks to mark the position. Jerry has a sixth sense or so he claims, sometimes it gets a bit off on him. He told me to check some markers about forty yards from the truck. I almost left my camera in the car because I don't trust Jerry's sixth sense, but I carried it along just in case. Lucky for me because, it did indeed turn out to be General Govan. This was truly our lucky day, my ears having lost all feeling along with my fingers, toes, and nose. Govan is the Arkansas brigadier who stood next to his close friend Patrick Cleburne at Franklin and said, "General, there won't be many of us to return home to Arkansas after this battle." Cleburne simply replied, "Well, Govan, if we are to die, let us die like men."

Brigadier General Daniel Govan

       It was at this point that Jerry's sixth sense began to get goofy or at least I think it did. He still claims he was right, but on that point I still remain dubious. He claimed he had an intuition that there was someone buried beneath a cedar tree he could see across the cemetery. He refused to leave the cemetery without investigating this mystery person. We drove across the cemetery to the cedar tree in question and sure enough, there was someone buried beneath the tree. I simply shook my head. Of course there was someone buried beneath the tree, it is a cemetery. He argues that he never said it was anyone buried there that had anything to do with the Civil War, he simply said there was someone buried there. 

       Leaving Holly Springs headed back home we again encountered a four way stop sign with only three roads. Jerry wanted to stop and take a picture of the intersection, but luckily he chose to pass on by this time. It was a typical Civil War Gasm for me. Out prowling the country with a fellow Civil War nut and we got photographs of us by six Confederate generals graves. I only wish I could do this everyday. 

Excerpt from my upcoming book "Die Like Men": Shy's Hill action at Nashville

Me standing at the spot where the following occurred 

      Brigadier General Thomas Benton Smith was young, just twenty-six years old. He was a striking man, tall and attractive to the ladies. He thought about Tod Carter, his assistant quartermaster who’d been killed back at Franklin. Tod had always kidded him about sharing a few ladies with him.

          Like General Gordon, who’d been captured at Franklin, Smith had graduated from the Nashville Military Institute. He’d become a railroad conductor after graduation. People just didn’t seem to understand that he liked to ride trains.

          The rain was coming down in torrents now. Like his men, he was cold, tired, and hungry. They’d gotten little sleep last night. At the moment, Smith was frustrated over his position. They’d been placed here in the dark on the crest of this hill. Instead of being on the military crest, they were on the actual crest itself. What all this meant was, when the Federals advanced, they couldn’t fire on them until they came over the ledge just twenty yards in front of his position. This situation made his line extremely weak.

Brigadier General Thomas Benton Smith

       He had cannons, but they couldn’t depress their muzzles to fire on the advancing Yankees until they were on top of them. It wasn’t his fault either, but that wasn’t any consolation to him at the moment. Ector’s Texans had occupied the position in the dark last evening. They hadn’t even bothered to throw up breastworks or place abatis in front of the lines. His brigade had been brought up here later in the night, and they’d had to dig all night to be prepared. By the time it had gotten to be daylight, he realized the fragility of his situation, but by then it was too late. Bate had instructed him to throw up breastworks. He had told Smith that the entire position of the army may rest on his brigade on top of this hill.

          The ground had been frozen last night and made the digging difficult. To add to the problem, he had very few picks and shovels. Most of his men were forced to dig with their bayonets. Others would sneak out into the dark and gather branches and logs. They threw anything that would stop a bullet into their breastworks. Rocks were piled up and covered over with dirt. All night long he had listened to the enemy voices in the cool night air near the base of the hill. He could see their fires through the trees.

          His adjutant, Captain Jones, and James Cooper, one of his aides, walked up. Cooper said, “Sir, a six-foot man could get within twenty feet of our works, and we wouldn’t know it.”

          Captain Jones added, “This is the poorest position we’ve ever been placed in.”

          “I agree,” Smith replied, “but it’s too late to change our dispositions now, gentlemen.”

          “That’s not all the good news, sir,” Cooper jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the rear. “Cheatham has ordered off Ector’s brigade. That’s the only reserves we have, and we keep stretching the line left. We ain’t much more than a skirmish line now.”

          Smith shook his head, making no reply.

          Cooper added. “I’m sure, when darkness gets here, we’ll be ordered to retreat. By the sound in our rear, we may already be surrounded.”

Major General William Brimage Bate

       He looked to his right and noticed how thin Finley’s Florida brigade had become. Ector’s Texas brigade had been pulled out of line about an hour ago to go face Wilson’s cavalry on some knoll in their rear. He and Strahl’s old brigade had been forced to extend their already thin lines to cover the gap Ector’s men left behind. He thought about poor old Otho Strahl. He was a good man. He’ll be severely missed. Strahl’s brigade and Smith’s were all Tennesseans fighting for their homes.

          By the sound of the firing behind him, he wondered if his brigade would see any fighting at all. It was becoming unnerving. The Federal cavalry was definitely getting in their rear, and he began to wonder if they wouldn’t be forced to surrender without a fight. The firing in rear of their position soon stopped. He wished he knew what was happening.

          Suddenly, Thomas Smith’s world erupted in flame and smoke. Federal batteries to the west and north of the hill all opened fire at once. It felt as though they were concentrating their fire on Smith’s one brigade. It probably felt that way to everyone on the hill. With that much artillery being poured on this hill, it could only mean one thing—an infantry assault was coming.

Dewitt Smith Jobe: A horrible death

Private Dewitt Smith Jobe

       Dewitt Smith Jobe was born in Rutherford County, Tennessee in 1840. In 1861, when the war began, Jobe joined Company D, 20th Tennessee Infantry Regiment. His cousin was the lieutenant colonel of the regiment, Thomas Benton Smith who would rise to the rank of brigadier general and eventually meet his own sad end. He had another cousin and namesake in the 45th Tennessee Infantry Regiment named Dewitt Smith who would become famous for avenging his cousins death. 

       Dewitt Smith Jobe was wounded in his first action at the Battle of Mill Springs, Kentucky and captured there. He would be exchanged in time to see action at the Battle of Murfreesboro. When Braxton Bragg began to retreat from Middle Tennessee, Dewitt Smith Jobe was chosen to serve in Coleman's Scouts along with another cousin named Samuel Davis. Davis became known as the 'Boy Hero of the Confederacy'. You can read his blog in my archives of January 7, 2011.

       

Sam Davis

       As a scout, Dewitt understood that he faced a more dangerous job than just serving as an infantry private in the Confederate Army. If he were captured he could be sentenced to be hanged. His cousin Sam Davis had been hanged in Pulaski, Tennessee in 1863 because he refused to provide information to the Federals when he was captured. 

       Dewitt Smith Jobe was operating behind Federal lines near Triune, Tennessee on August 29, 1864 and had just had breakfast with a relative. He was travelling by night and sleeping by day to avoid Federal patrols. He refused to stay at the house for fear his relatives would be punished if he was found sleeping there. He moved to a nearby cornfield to get some rest. Unknown to him, a Federal cavalryman had spotted him through a telescope and moved in with a squad of the 115th Ohio Cavalry. 

       As the 15 man patrol approached Dewitt, he tore up his dispatches, chewed and swallowed them. This seemed to anger the Federal patrol, who would later be reported as intoxicated. They demanded to know what the dispatch contained and who they were meant for. Like his cousin Sam Davis, a year earlier, Dewitt refused to betray his country. 

       The Ohio cavalrymen tied his hands behind his back and took a rein from one of their horses and strangled Dewitt in an attempt to get him to talk. Yet, he still refused. They then struck him over and over with a pistol, knocking out his front teeth. He was helpless and bleeding  but still refused to provide the Federal soldiers with information. 

       They screamed and yelled as they continued enjoying their torture of the young man. Neighbors nearby could hear the delight in their voices. They then decided if he wouldn't talk, they would gouge his eyes out. Still the brave young man refused to talk. They then decided to cut his tongue out. After cutting his tongue out, they decided to put the boy out of his misery. They tied a rope around his neck and attached it to a horse and dragged the young man to his death. 

       The members of the 115th Ohio Cavalry were never punished for their crimes. Legend states that the sergeant in charge of the patrol went mad after sobering up. Some members of the regiment were killed when the Sultana sank after the war returning them from Andersonville Prisoner of War Camp in Georgia.

       This wouldn't be the end of retribution for the horrible act. Dewitt's Jobe's cousin Dee Smith is said to have lost his mind in rage when he heard the news. He left Hood's Confederate Army and raised the black flag against Federal troops. He would take no prisoners. He would slit the throats of 14 Federal soldiers in their sleep near Murfreesboro, Tennessee in revenge and kill nearly 50 more before he was wounded and captured. The Federal's planned to hang the wounded prisoner the next day, but Dewitt Smith would die before the scheduled time. 

Grave of Dewitt Smith Jobe

       Dewitt Smith Jobe was 24 years old. The Federal soldiers who killed him later stated that he was the bravest man they'd ever met. His fiance found his body and placed a handkerchief over his face. Old Frank, a servant on the Jobe plantation placed Jobe's body in a wagon, tears streaming down his cheeks. He would be carried back to his home in Brookhill, Tennessee and buried there. 

Carved Sentinel at Jobe's Grave

Jobe's Confederate Medal of Honor

       Legend carried down from that time state that the place where these horrible things occurred to Dewitt Smith Jobe is haunted. People traveling by have reported having an eerie feeling at the place. Regardless, Dewitt Smith Jobe was one of the bravest men who ever lived.