A Not Civil War Blog About My Grandfather in World War II

Price Kent

       My last living grandparent was Price Kent, my dad's dad. I was 13 years old at the time of his death. He was born on September 21, 1907 (ironically my mom's dad was born on September 21, 1904 and my birthday is September 25, 1968) in Colbert County, Alabama. His mother died on April 14, 1915, he was seven years old, the oldest of four. 

        The two oldest children, my grandfather and his brother Uncle Herman lived with their dad who worked for T.V.A. His father was Clarence Hartwell Kent who helped work on Wilson Dam which was began in 1918 and completed in 1924. The two youngest children, my uncle Burnice and Aunt Elsie were sent to Clarence's in-laws and raised by his deceased wife's mother and father, John Alexander Osborn and Mary Elizabeth Keenum Osborn. 

John Osborn (standing at right) and Mary Keenum (standing next to John)

       He would join the navy in 1944 at the age 37. He told a funny story about how he got in the navy. He said he stood in line with everyone that had been drafted. Everyone of them was eighteen years old and everyone of them asked for the navy. Not a one of them got the navy. When asked what he wanted, he replied, "It don't matter to me." The sergeant looked at him and said, "You volunteered didn't you?" Price replied, "Yes I did." The sergeant started marking on his paper and said, "You're in the navy."

       At the age of 37, my grandfather became a seaman although he couldn't swim, he could dog paddle a little and entered World War II. He was assigned duty aboard the U.S.S. Escalante. This ship was a tanker that fueled other ships at sea. My grandfather would join her for her second cruise to the Pacific Ocean. They passed through the Panama Canal and on toward Pearl Harbor. They saw action at Luzon, Iwo Jima, Okinawa, and entered Tokyo Bay during the surrender ceremonies. 

AO-70 U.S.S. Escalante on June 26, 1944. My dad was 18 days old when this photo was taken.

       He told me that the Escalante fueled a lot of ships, but one he remembers in particular was the U.S.S. Alabama. I searched the records and found that they actually fueled the Alabama on August 21, 1945. He often told me that his job when at battle stations was to load one of the weapons, but never fired the weapon himself. Fortunately they never saw any action because a tanker is no place to be in combat. The United States only lost six tankers to enemy action in World War II. Paw Paw Kent as I called him said that he remembered a Japanese Kamikaze crash his plane into an island nearby because he thought it was a ship. Another scare came when they happened up on a dead whale floating in the water at night and thought it was a mine. 

Damage to the U.S.S. Thornton caused by the Escalante late in the war. My grandfather never mentioned a collision to me.

       He told me another great story about life aboard the ship. He said on Sunday's the enlisted men had the day off. He was always a hard working farmer and was walking around the ship bored on Sunday afternoon. He came up on an officer working on something on the deck. Paw Kent had nothing better to do, so he helped the young officer fix whatever it was he was working on. He said, "After that day, I had it made. That officer took good care of me. I went around the ship greasing door hatches and things like that." He'd had no idea that his kind act would benefit him in any way. He taught me how they fueled other ships. He said they would get withing a hundred feet and shoot a line to the other ship. That ship would attach cables or ropes to that line and they would pull those back to the tanker. They would then attach the fuel hoses to those lines and the ship would drag the hoses back and place them in the tanks. The tanker would then pump fuel through the hoses and refuel the ship.

AO-53 fueling a ship at sea. This picture helps you to understand how they fueled another warship.

       My dad says that not long after returning from the war, my grandfather began to have blood in his urine. This went on from about 1947 until the mid-seventies. He finally went to the V.A. hospital in Memphis, Tennessee (I still remember my dad and I taking him there). I still remember us seeing a hawk fighting several crows in a field along side the road and us pulling the car to the roadside to watch. I was about six or seven at the time, but remember it like it was yesterday. I had no idea what cancer was at that time. I had lost my mom's dad at age 5 and her mom at age 7. Dad's mom had bone cancer and died when I was 10. My grandfather finally died of bladder cancer on March 11, 1979. I was 13. My Uncle Lawrence used to tell me he believed that he got that cancer in Japan. He said my grandfather had told him they'd sent him ashore to help clean up the atomic bomb damage and that's where he would receive his death sentence. I have yet to verify this part of the story because the building in St. Louis that housed the navy records burned. I would like to know what medals he was due and receive those also. I have the flag that draped his casket in my dining room on top of my wife's piano. 

       I've told my oldest son Chase, who is now 13, he needs to ask all the questions he can think of to his grandparents because once they are gone, there will be no one left to answer them. I can think of a million questions I should have asked now, but it's too late now.

Betrayed: An Excerpt From My Upcoming Book

June 14, 1912

Brick, Mississippi

       The boy slowly made his way up the dust-covered road toward the shack on top of the hill. He had spent a week trying to work up the courage to visit the old man who lived up here. He paused and looked back at the town below. The view was breathtaking for a ten-year-old boy.

       His school teacher, Miss Harman, was the reason he was coming up here today. She’d taught her class about the war that had ravaged this country almost fifty years ago. Until that day, he had never imagined men fighting a war on the very land where he lived. He’d asked around town and no one was able to tell him what had happened here during the war. One name kept coming up though. They called him Old Man Saunders. Everyone said the old recluse had lived here his entire life and would probably be able to tell him anything he’d want to know.

He stood there staring down at the town watching people going about their busy lives. No one seemed to care what had happened here before them. He found that hard to fathom.

       He glanced over his shoulder at the dilapidated shack on top of the hill. He dreaded going up there, but he was determined. All the kids in town said the old man was crazy. They said he kept a shotgun at his side at all times, just to shoot trespassers.

       He took a deep breath and continued on up the hill. Old Man Saunders sat on the front porch in a rocking chair. He wore an old pair of overalls with nothing underneath. When the boy got close enough, he could see tobacco stains on the old man’s bare feet.

       The boy eyed the shotgun propped against the wall behind the old man. A shudder hung at an odd angle from the window. The one on the other side had long since disappeared.

       “Miss…Mister Saunders,” the boy stuttered, betraying his nervousness.

Saunders eyeballed the boy for a long moment. “That shore is some purdy red hair. Almost shines out in that sun. I ain’t seen hair that red in years.”

       “Thank you,” the boy didn’t quite know how to take him.

       “What’s your name, boy?” Saunders leaned forward and spat a stream of tobacco juice across the porch. Tiny clouds of dust rose from the impact in the dry soil.

       “I’m Charles Rich, sir,” the boy kept his head down, hands stuffed into large pockets. “Everybody calls me Charlie.”

      “Ain’t your pa Thomas Rich?” Saunders wiped his mouth. Tobacco juice stained his bare arm.

       “Yes sir,” Charlie glanced up. He still wasn’t sure how to take the old man. He’d heard too many stories about him. The boys at school said he had gone insane because he had lost his entire family during the war.

       “I know ʼim,” the old man managed a small grin. “He come up here and seen about my arthritis.”

       Charlie saw Saunders grin, and smiled back. He hadn’t known his dad tended to Mister Saunders. Strange how he had never mentioned it before. He said,          “Yeah, his daddy was a doctor also. They say he fought in the Civil War.”

       “Hmmph,” the old man replied. He stopped grinning. Charlie wondered what he’d said. Saunders looked down at his feet. His face now wore a sad expression.

Charlie quickly added, “I hope I’m not bothering you, sir. I came up here to see if you could tell me about the war.”

       “The war?” Saunders’s eyebrows shot up. “I figured a boy your age would be more interested in that boat that sunk a couple months ago. What’s the name of it?”

       “The Titanic,” Charlie replied. He was surprised the old man had even heard of it.

       “I hear’d about it in the journals,” Saunders shot another stream of tobacco juice off the porch. “Great loss of life is what it said. It weren’t nothing compared to the war though.”

       Charlie stepped closer to the porch. He figured this was his chance. He would make his play. The old man would either tell him about the war or send him home. He said, “I can’t find anyone that can tell me what happened around here during the war. Miss Harman, my teacher, taught us a few things, but she doesn’t know a thing about what happened around here. She mostly talked about Gettysburg and Vicksburg and what a great man Abraham Lincoln was.”

       Saunders grimaced. “This Miss Harman ain’t from around these parts, is she?”

       “No sir,” Charlie smiled. He had expected this kind of reaction from the old man. “I think her family moved here from Indiana.”

       “Look, boy,” Saunders pointed toward the porch, “you better come on in here out of that sun before you blister. Ya’ll fair skinned redheads get burned too easy. I used to have a cousin with the same color hair as you. When we was kids and playing out in the sun, he would get so blistered that his ears would peel off. Now, back when we was boys, the Mexican War was a being fought. We marched all over these here hills and hollers. Bet we killed a million Mexicans. That boy always wanted to grow up and be a soldier, but his maw was agin it.”

       Charlie relaxed. He watched Saunders smile as he reveled in his childhood games. The old man seemed to be warming up to him. He wondered why he stayed up here to himself anyway. He acted as though he just wanted some company. John Tucker had told him that Saunders even had his groceries delivered up here to keep from having to come into town and be around people.

       He stepped onto the porch and looked around. Junk was piled everywhere, but there were no more chairs. Saunders stood up and began to dig through a pile of garbage and pulled out an old bucket. He flipped it over and sat it down beside his rocking chair.

       Charlie took a seat on the bucket and waited. Saunders stared down the hill toward the town. After a long moment he said, “Don’t know much to tell you really.”

       “Were there any battles fought around here?” Charlie was on the edge of the bucket eagerly waiting.

      “If you mean battles like with armies and such,” Saunders began to slowly shake his head, “we had one nice skirmish that I can remember. It was right down there in town.”

       “Oh,” Charlie looked down, his face betraying his disappointment. “Dad says my grandpa was a doctor in the war. Do you remember what he did?”

       “I reckon he went up to Jackson in sixty-three when Grant was a throwin’ his weight around central Mississippi.” Saunders spat, sniffed, and wiped at the tobacco juice on his chin. “I hear’d he did some amputatin’ and such ʼbout that time.”

       Charlie looked a little let down. He asked, “So we didn’t have nobody from here fight in the war?”

       Saunders’s eyebrows shot up. He laughed and said, “Well, now, I didn’t say that, now did I?”

       “No sir,” Charlie smiled. “Did you fight?”

       “Most all of us that was of age fought.” Saunders raised his chin. He had a proud look on his face. He said, “The boys from Brick, Mississippi, formed Company H, Sixth Mississippi Infantry. I still remember all the ladies a crying as we marched out of town. You know when they’s a war, all young men must go.”

       Charlie’s eyes grew wide. He waited for the old man to continue, but Saunders was deep in thought. Charlie said, “Tell me all about it.”

       “Ain’t much to tell ya,” Saunders’s expression changed to sadness. He looked down at the ground just in front of the porch. “There was thirty of us went up to Shiloh in sixty-two. The whole regiment attacked this little old bald hill. There was a little over four hunnerd in the regiment. It didn’t last five minutes. Anyway, thirty of us in Company H went in and only five came out. The rest were either killed, wounded, or missin’. Just like that and our war service with the Sixth Mississippi was over.”

       “That’s it?” Charlie looked incredulous.

       “That’s it,” Saunders replied. He rubbed the stubble on his chin while he studied the expression on Charlie’s face. “I suppose I could tell you ʼbout the best soldier I ever knowed. He fought through the whole war. He started out a lieutenant.”

       “Sure,” Charlie was back up on the edge of the bucket.

       “Ain’t gonna be able to tell it all in one day. You’ll have to come by from time to time and visit a spell. I don’t get much company up here.” Saunders spat another stream of tobacco juice off the porch.

       “Sure, I’ll come every day if you want,” Charlie looked as though he were about to explode with excitement. He watched Saunders’s eyes as he continued to rub his chin. The old man was in deep thought now. He had just gone back to 1862.

       Saunders said, “Our story starts in Corinth, Mississippi, up in the northeast part of the state….”

The Myth of Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain

Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain

       I can't help but be amazed at the people that still proclaim Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain the hero of Gettysburg. I understand that all men who fought well in that war were hero's, but what made Chamberlain the hero he is today? Let's take a look at one of my favorite books called These Honored Dead by Thomas Desjardin. He covers many of the misled beliefs dealing with the Battle of Gettysburg and what caused these beliefs to become so ingrained in our history. 

       Desjardin tells us how Ken Burns is the man that made the legend of Chamberlain what it is today. The famous charge that Burns portrays Chamberlain as ordering never occurred. Desjardin says, "Even that in his lifetime Chamberlain repeatedly denied ordering a charge."

       He goes on to say, "To say that Chamberlain saved the Union Army at Gettysburg is to ignore the 15,000 or more men held in reserve in close proximity to Little Round Top." Basically speaking, Ken Burns hollywooded up the film to make Chamberlain the hero that he wanted him to be. Because of Ken Burns and the movie Gettysburg based on the Michael Shaara book The Killer Angels, Chamberlain is so often used in sermons and classrooms as a great American hero. So what are the facts of Chamberlain and his fight at Gettysburg?

       

Because no one has been able to understand what type hat Chamberlain wore at Gettysburg, he has been depicted in every painting as being without a hat, another myth dealing with Chamberlain and Gettysburg. 

       Even further is the point that Chamberlain had been promoted to colonel the day before the battle, making him the lowest colonel in seniority in the entire Federal Army of around 90,000 men. He was extremely sick at Gettysburg, running a fever because of malaria and with chronic diarrhea. Nothing like what people who watched the movie picture him like today. 

       Desjardin goes further with the legend of Chamberlain. He says, "Legend tells us - five regiments of Confederates had fled in its path (20th Maine), leaving four or five hundred prisoners in Chamberlain's care, among them some of the most battle hardened men in Lee's army. The truth of the matter is that Chamberlain was attacked by one regiment, the 15th Alabama Infantry commanded by Colonel William C. Oates. So how many men did Oates lose in the fight with Chamberlain?

       When we break down the numbers, Oates Alabama regiment lost 167 men. That number includes killed, wounded, and captured. That number is far short of the 400 prisoners of legend. The 47th Alabama (the 15th Alabama was the extreme right of the line there was no regiment to it's right), to the left of the 15th Alabama had only lost 64 men in killed, wounded, and captured. If you were to say all these casualties were captured, which is ridiculous because Oates said the blood of the dead and dying stood in puddles on the rocks, you still don't have 400 prisoners captured by Chamberlain, but 231. How many men attacked Chamberlain's position?

       

William C. Oates

       We know that William C. Oates claimed he entered the fight at Gettysburg with 644 men, but since that time we know he had just a little over half that figure. Most historians believe Oates miscalculated his strength because he was in an argument with his corps commander Lieutenant General James Longstreet. Witnesses to the fight have all called his 644 man regiment theory as ridiculous. Most historians believe the number to be between 380 men to 400 men at most, a few say as much as 500, but witnesses claim this number too high. How many men did Chamberlain have?

       Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain the newly promoted colonel had about 358 men at Gettysburg. He wouldn't have had but about 250 had not the rebellious members of the 2nd Maine joined his ranks. I say joined, they were forced into his ranks and increased his numbers. So how many men were left when the fighting ended? My wife heard a man tonight claim that Chamberlain began the battle with a thousand men and ended the battle with 80 men and captured 400 prisoners. Let's find the true answer. 

       Of the 358 men engaged, protected by a stone wall against a regiment of about equal numbers only lost 130 killed and wounded. William Oates said that he ordered his men to retreat when the fighting eased up because of heavy casualties and lack of ammunition. His men had marched about 20 miles that morning to reach the field and had sent part of the regiment with canteens to obtain water because they were out. These men didn't return with the canteens in time, so Oates men entered the fight without water on an extremely hot July day. The number that Chamberlain claimed he had captured were about 50 men and those were the wounded that could not escape. 

       What truly made Chamberlain a Civil War hero? He lived until 1914, almost 49 years after the war ended and during that long period of time, he wrote about all his great exploits and how he saved the day at Gettysburg on July 2, 1863. He took 400 men and defeated a 400 man Confederate regiment that would have rolled up the Federal flank if they had broken through, although there were 15,000 Federal reserves in the vicinity. I'll buy that if you'll buy my nice ocean front property in Wyoming. 

       

       

Family History Letters 38

This is the last letter I have that is written during the Civil War. As sad as they have gotten it is probably a good thing. It's almost like the entire Burnett family was wiped out in the war. From September 1863 until March of 1864 they lost 3 brothers. Joel is still alive at this point and I have yet to find out if Moses is a brother or brother-in-law.

Alabama, Talladega County

This June the 26, 1864

Dear children, I once more take my pen in hand to write you a few lines to let you know that we are all well as common at this time hoping that these few lines will come to your distant hand and find you all well and doing well. I ain't anything strange to write to you at this time. We received Catherine's letter last night and we were glad to hear from you and to hear that you was all well and you wanted us to write when we heard from the boys. We ain't heard from William but one time since he was taken a prisoner and you wanted know what barrack he was in. I don't know, he was taken the same time that Nicholas (Nicholas Michael, Private, Company F, 28th Alabama Infantry, brother-in-law to Alexander and Jeremiah Burnett) was and at the same place and we ain't heard from Joel and Moses in some time. We got a letter from Joel about three weeks ago but we heard since that they were all taken prisoner and I expect it is so or he is killed and Moses is taken prisoner. A man wrote Juda a letter since about him and Joel had got parted and you wanted to know how our corn looked, it is very small yet, but I think it will make corn yet and you wanted to know whether we have had any rain this month. We have been to wet to work part of the time and I will let you know that wheat crops ain't mighty good. They were injured by the wet weather and I will let you know that the yankee's has got Marietta and they will soon have Atlanta. They go where they please, they are fighting constant along that road and going on to Atlanta. We ain't heard from any other place in some time and I will let you know that times is mighty hard in this part of the country and they won't get no better till this war quits and then I am afraid they won't be much better and we want to know whether Catherine and Susey is a making crop this year or not and whether Catherine is at there place or not. We would be glad to see you and be with you, but it appears like that there is no chance for us to come and see you and if you can get the chance to come and see us and we want you to write as often as you can to let us know how you all are and the old woman says that she ain't got any boys. (They are all dead or a couple or still in the army.) She don't consider and she wishes that she was with you that she could see her blessed babies. So I will close by saying we still remain your father and mother till death. Pleasant and Martha Burnett to Catherine and Susey Burnett. 

Family History Letter 36 and 37

You may wonder why I'm in such a hurry to post all these letters. A good buddy of mine named Wheeler Pounds is writing a trilogy about the Cherokee Indians from Northern Alabama and he's come to the Civil War part of his book. He is using these letters to help understand the way things were in the Civil War for the common person in the South. So, now I'm nearing the end of the letters, only a few more. There are more letters but they are after the war and have little to do with the war at all. 

When this letter begins in June of 1864, A.H. Burnett is gone probably killed at Chickamauga, Jerry Burnett is dead from disease in March of 1864 and their little brother William Burnett has entered the 28th Alabama Infantry (probably conscripted) at age 18 and been captured at Ringgold Gap, Georgia. He was sent to Rock Island Prison Camp in Illinois where he dies in late March of 1864, the same month as his brother Jerry. The family doesn't yet know that William is dead. I'm not sure if they know about Jerry yet or not. 

Alabama, Talladega County

This June the 9, 1864

Dear children, I now take my pen in hand to write you a few lines to let you know that we are all well at this time as common, hoping that these few lines may come to your hand and find you all well and a doing well. I ain't got anything strange to write to you that is strange. Catherine, we received your letter and we was glad to hear from you and to hear that you was all well and you wanted to hear from the boys. We ain't heard from them in some time. Joel (Private, Company G, 31st Alabama Infantry) we heard from him about two weeks ago. We ain't heard from William (captured on November 26, 1863 and sent to Rock Island Prison Camp, he had died on March 31, 1864 there of unknown causes, he was dead 9 days before this letter was written) but one time since the yankee's got him and they say that the yankee's has got Moses (I have not located Moses yet). We ain't got no letter from him in a month and you wanted us to write how we made out for provisions. We have got corn enough to do us and we got milk and butter a plenty, but bacon is scarce and I will make some wheat. I have about seven acres sowed, but I don't get but half and (unreadable). I want to know whether you draw any money or not, and if you don't you go to the probate judge and see if there ain't money for the women sent to him, for the women gets help here. (This makes it pretty clear that Alexander is dead.) They get money and corn and salt and I hear that the soldiers is a writing that they think they will be at home by the fourth of July and I wish it may be so. I want you to write as soon as you can to us and let us know all the news you can and I will let you know that wheat crops ain't (unreadable) in this part (unreadable) country were killed by the cold weather. they are too thin, it will be tolerable good grain wheat and corn crops is small, yet I ain't got a very big crop this year. I have about fourteen acres in corn and I want to know whether you are making a crop or not and we hear that they yankee's is not far off and I don't know whether it is so or not. The (unreadable) the old woman wants to know how many children you have, a their names and their ages. So I will close my letter for this time by saying we still remain your father and mother until death. To Catherine and Susey Burnett. Pleasant and Martha Burnett. Write as often as you can and I will.

State of Alabama, Talladega County

June the 5, 1864

Dear sisters, I again with pleasure seat my self to inform you that I am well as common, hoping when this comes to your hand it will find you well and doing well. I ain't got anything to write to you that would interest you at this time, more than we received your kind letter last night. I was glad to hear from you one time more. Catherine, I am sorry for you and any other women in your fix and Susey (Her husband Jeremiah Burnett died on March 6, 1864 from disease) too. I hope God may be with you both and you may never suffer. I am making out very well considering the bad accident that happened to us. Catherine, I ain't got but one letter from William since he was taken prisoner. He was in (unreadable) have to close for this time. I remain your sister. Ly. E. Burnett to Catherine and Susey Burnett.

Family History Letter 34 and 35

State of Alabama, Talladega County

July the 5, 1863

Dear sister, I now seat myself to let you know that we are all well as common hoping these few lines may find you all well. I ain't nothing strange to write to you at this time. We receive a letter from A.H. Burnett the 27 of June, he was well at that time. He said they was expecting a fight there in a few days, he was at Shelbyville, Tennessee. He said the yankee's was in eight miles there. We will start a letter to him, when this starts to you. I had like to forgot to say anything about my fine girl. You and Jerry and Susy (my grandparents) letter and it will tell you all about it. I will have to stop for (unreadable) back of some Jo. No more this time only I still remain your brother and sister till death. To Catherine Burnett. William and Yentisher Burnett. I want you write every chance you get, this is the last paper that I have. Juda and Moses is well and wants to see you and the children mighty bad Jo. No more this time, Juda Freeman.

State of Georgia, Camp near Chattanooga

September the 4, 1863   (This letter was written 15 days before the Battle of Chickamauga, the 28th Alabama Infantry lost 172 men in the battle.)

Dear companion it is with great pleasure that I seat myself this evening to drop you a few lines to let you know that I am well as common hoping when these few lines comes to hand they may find you all well. I ain't got anything strange to write to you at present only times is hard here. I received your kind letter which was mailed August the 26 which stated that you was all well but James. I was sorry to hear the he was sick. Nicholas and Jo is tolerable well. Jo ain't got start yet though he's better than he has been. Catherine you wrote last that you hadn't got the things that I sent by Mr. Hamilton. Catherine, we get a plenty of good water and corn bread and a half pound of bacon (unreadable) a letter from father the other day which stated that the was all well. The wrote to me if they was in my place, they would run away if the could get away before they would stay there and work on what I got to eat. But, I don't think that I will desert them yet awhile the want of something to eat. If I ever run away it will be for the bad treatment I get. They are very tight on the men now. L.E. Gilbert is our captain, we elected John Compton * (more below) our captain, but Colonel Reed ** (more below) said he shouldn't be captain and we found out that he was going to put a man to it his self and we got a petition and got the company to sign it and presented it to the colonel and he said if it was the wish of the company, he would (unreadable) him captain. We have been (unreadable) right here for over a week but (unreadable) think they will fight (unreadable) though they may fool me. They say that there is about 70 thousand yankee's cross the river at Bridgeport. I heard a courier say so this morning myself. John Thomas you and Martha Elizabeth (unreadable) take good care of Sarah Almeada Frances and divide pretties with her, for Pa can't get many pretties here. I would be glad to get a heap of pretties for you and to get to come and fetch them to you. Catherine you never wrote whether you got the (unreadable) dollars they (unreadable) divide for the company and they was too small and I thought about you going barefooted last winter and I just took them and Mr. Hamilton came in a few days. I knew if you don't need them now, you will this winter. (In other words he sent his new pair of brogans to his wife claiming they were too small. He would do without in order for her to have shoes.) So nothing more at present, only I still remain your loving husband till death. This from A.H. Burnett to Catherine Burnett. Write soon and often, take good care of yourself and my sweet babes. So good bye. 

* John S. Compton, 2nd Lieutenant, Company F, 28th Alabama Infantry, 42 years old at this time.

** John C. Reid, Colonel, 28th Alabama Infantry, General Manigault calls him efficient and attentive to his duties. 

(I noticed that this was the first time he wrote "So good bye" and the sad part is this is just two weeks before the bloody battle at Chickamauga. There are no more letters from Alexander H. Burnett to Catherine. It makes one wonder if he knew it was the end?)

Family History Letter 33

State of Tennessee, Camp near Chattanooga

August the 27, 1863

Dear companion, it is with great pleasure that I seat myself this one time more to drop you a few lines to let you know that I am well as common hoping when these few lines comes to hand they may find you all well. I ain't got anything strange to write to you at present only times is hard here. We are camped on the side of Lookout Mountain a guarding the gap. We have been looking for the yankee's ever since last Sunday but they ain't come yet. I received your kind letter yesterday baring the date 17 of August which stated that you was all well. I was the gladdest in the world to get it for I hadn't heard from you since Jo left. You wanted to know whether I sent you a by Baker or not. I didn't for I thought was uncertain when the it come or not. He was such a (unreadable) and I (unreadable) Catherine. I sent you a fine comb and a half a paper and pen and 2 finger rings and a little heart and another little trick for Sarah A. Frances by Mr. Morrow, he said he would carry them to Jasper as soon as he got home and I sent you 25 dollars by Mr. Hamilton and a pair of shoes and a half square of paper and paper of big needles. Catherine, I am very sorry to hear that you think the yankee's is in there at Jasper. It is bad enough to think of them being here, let alone being there a near you all. Our regiment is on picket about 4 miles from Chattanooga at the gap of Lookout Mountain. We have been here 4 days and nights and I don't know how long we will  be here. Captain Gilbert * (see more below) says that we will guard this gap till the fight is settled here. I am in hopes they won't fight here at all though that looks very gloomy at this time. The signal men says that the yankee's is just on yon side of the river. There (unreadable) of them making their way up the river on yon side so I will come to a close by saying I (unreadable) remain you loving husband till death. This from A.H. Burnett to Catherine Burnett.

Loveginsky E. Gilbert, Captain of Company F, he was captured November 23, 1863 at Lookout Mountain and held at Johnson's Island for the remainder of the war. He was 34 years old at the time of his capture, light complected with dark hair, hazel eyes and stood 5 foot 7 inches in height. He lived in Eutaw, Alabama.