John Isaacs

John and Ruth Isaacs at the grave of John Isaacs

 

JOHN R. ISAACS

 

            John Isaacs was born in 1843 in Rockbridge County, Virginia.  He enlisted in Co K of the 11^th VA Inf., “The Valley Regulators,” three days after the 1^st Battle of Manassas on July 24, 1861.  He fought in all of the 11^th Virginia’s battles.  He is listed as present on the June rolls of the 11^th VA and as a part of Kemper’s Brigade, he took part in Pickett’s Charge at the Battle of Gettysburg on July 3, 1863.  John’s younger brother, George enlisted in the 11^th VA, and joined Co. K. on October 16, 1863.  George was killed at Drury’s Bluff, VA on May 16, 1864.  After the War, John R. Isaacs moved to Parke County, Indiana where he bought a farm and began his new life.  The Isaacs family still owns the farm.  John passed away in 1909 and was buried at the Methodist Cemetery in Waveland.  After the Methodist Cemetery fell into disrepair, John’s son, William moved his father to Maple Ridge Cemetery just north of Waveland where he rests today.

The Last Words of Stonewall Jackson

 

Stonewall Jackson engraving by C.A. Powell taken from a photograph taken in Winchester, VA, in 1862

Last photograph of Stonewall Jackson

The Last Words of Stonewall Jackson

 

 

 

By Mrs. J. William Jones

 

Brilliant, complete, but O how brief

Were the chivalrous deeds of the world’s great chief!

But crowded within that little span

Were records of glory scarce known to man.

 

Two continents watched with wonder and awe

As he sprang, full armed, from the god of war;

That quiet Professor, unknown to the world,

This offspring of thunder was suddenly hurled.

 

Into the arena, with God as his guide,

He fearlessly charged the great odds he defied;

And victory followed that old coat of gray

Till furrowed by bullets that ill-fated day.

 

On Sunday he heard that the end was so near,

When calmly he said without tremor or fear:

“I have always wanted to die on this day.”

So the way of the Father was Stonewall’s way.

 

With feverish brain, he’s a soldier still—

Crisp orders he sends to A.P. Hill.

The fire of battle burns in his eyes—

A warrior grand, though he lowly lies.

 

The soldier grows weary, the camp is in sight,

His countenance beams with celestial light.

“Let us cross over”—into heaven he sees—

“The river and rest ‘neath the shade of the trees.”

 

Richmond, Va, May 28, 1900

Isaac O’Haver

 

Monument of Confederate Bugler at Corsicana, TX

 

Isaac O’Haver

 

Isaac O’Haver was a member of Co K of the 17^th VA Cavalry.  He was a  17 year-old bugler for his unit.  He was born Sep. 20, 1844 and died at the age of 27 on March 30, 1872.  He is buried at the Ladoga Cemetery.

Jonas T. Gish

JONAS T. GISH

 

Jonas Gish was one the eleven Confederate soldiers who came to Montgomery County from Botetourt Co., VA.  He enlisted in the Confederate Army at the beginning of the War and was assigned to Co K of the 28^th VA Inf.  He is one of seven Confederate soldiers who are buried in Montgomery County who survived Pickett’s Charge at the Battle of Gettysburg.  Gish was born on Oct. 29, 1838 and died on Dec. 2, 1926 at Ladoga.  He is buried in the Ladoga Cemetery.

John Mangus

JOHN MANGUS

John Mangus

 

John Mangus moved to Indiana after the war, probably in 1881.  He moved to Ladoga with his wife Sarah and 6 children.  His Great-great-great grandfather was Andreas Mangus, who was a Hessian soldier who came to America to fight the British in the Revolutionary War and stayed after the fighting was over.  John enlisted in the army in 1861 at the beginning of the Civil War and was assigned to Co. E of the 42^nd Virginia Infantry.   Company E was called the Dixie Grays.  He served honorably until he was paroled after the surrender at the Appomattox Courthouse, being the only member of Company E to answer the roll call.  The 42^nd VA saw action in many battles during the war.  Most notable of which were the 2^nd Manassas, Harper’s Ferry, Antietam, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, and finally Gettysburg.  John Mangus was wounded at Antietam and Chancellorsville.  John Chapla, in his history of the 42^nd, observed that, “Clearly in the postwar era the surviving members of the Dixie Greys, Co. E of the 42^nd Va. Inf., came to believe that he held a special status among the survivors.”  John Mangus died in 1921 and is buried at the Ladoga Cemetery.

 

Mark Raines and SHAPE

One of the goals of the SCV camps is to erect memorial stones honoring Confederate veterans, so we began to search the records and look for stones to see how many of them had Confederate military stones and how many had just civilian stones.  With the help of SHAPE for the South, who have people doing research on Confederate soldiers and their units and who have been doing a great work getting the beautiful white marble stones ordered, we began to tell some amazing stories in words and pictures.

A Southern Mother’s Charge

Mother of Sam Davis

THE SOUTHERN MOTHER’S CHARGE
by Anonymous

The Southern Mother’s charge to her Son on his departure
to Virginia to defend his country’s rights and honor.

You go, my son, to the battle-field
To repel the invading foe;
‘Mid its fiercest conflicts never yield

Till death shall lay you low.

Our God, who smiles upon the Right,
And frowns upon the Wrong,
Will nerve you for our holy fight,
And make your courage strong.

Our cause is just. For it we pray
At morning, noon and night;
Upon our banners we inscribe
God, Liberty and Right.

I love you as my life,
My dear beloved son;
Your country calls–go forth and fight
Till Freedom’s cause is won.

It may be that you fall in death,
Contending for your home,
Yet your aged mother will not be
Forsaken, though alone.

A thousand generous hearts there are
Throughout this sunny land,
Whose ample fortunes will be spent
With an unsparing hand.

Now go, my son; a mother’s prayers
Will ever follow thee;
And in the thickest of the fight
Strike home for liberty.

On every hill, in every glen,
We’ll fight till we are free–
We’ll fight till every limpid brook
Runs crimson to the sea.

No truce we know, till every foe
Shall leave our hallowed sod,
And we regain that Heaven born boon–
“Freedom to worship God.”

High Tide at Gettysburg

THE HIGH TIDE

 

ARMISTEAD AT GETTYSBURG
by Will Henry Thompson

 

 

 

 

Painting by Mort Kuntzler

A cloud possessed the hollow field,
The gathering battle’s smoky shield:
   Athwart the gloom the lightning flashed,
   And through the cloud some horsemen dashed,
And from the heights the thunder pealed.

Then, at the brief command of Lee,
Moved out that matchless infantry,
   With Pickett leading grandly down,
   To rush against the roaring crown
Of those dread heights of destiny.

Far heard above the angry guns
A cry across the tumult runs,–
   The voice that rang from Shilo’s woods
   And Chickamauga’s solitudes,
The fierce South cheering on her sons!

Ah, how the withering tempest blew
Against the front of Pettigrew!
   A Khamsin wind that scorched and singed
    Like that infernal flame that fringed
The British squares at Waterloo!

A thousand fell where Kemper led;
A thousand died where Garnett bled:
   In blinding flame and strangling smoke
   Their remnant through the batteries broke
And crossed the works with Armistead.

“Once more in Glory’s van with me!”
Virginia cried to Tennessee;
   “We two together, come what may,
   Shall stand upon these works to-day!”
(The reddest day in history.)

Brave Tennessee! In reckless way
Virginia heard her comrade say:
   “Close round this rent and riddled rag!”
   What time she set her battle-flag
Amid the guns of Doubleday.

But who shall break the guards that wait
Before the awful face of Fate?
   The tattered standards of the South
   Were shriveled at the cannon’s mouth,
And all her hopes were desolate.

In vain the Tennessean set
His breast against the bayonet;
   In vain Virginia charged and raged,
   A tigress in her wrath uncaged,
Till all the hill was red and wet!

Above the bayonets, mixed and crossed,
Men saw a gray, gigantic ghost
   Receding through the battle-cloud,
   And heard across the tempset loud
The death-cry of a nation lost!

The brave went down! Without disgrace
They leaped to Ruin’s red embrace;
   They heard Fame’s thunders wake,
   And saw the dazzling sun-burst break
In smiles on Glory’s bloody face!

They fell, who lifted up a hand
And bade the sun in heaven to stand;
   They smote and fell, who set the bars
   Against the progress of the stars,
And stayed the march of Motherland!

They stood, who saw the future come
On through the fight’s delirium;
   They smote and stood, who held the hope
   Of nations on that slippery slope
Amid the cheers of Christendom.

God lives! He forged the iron will
That clutched and held that trembling hill!
   God lives and reigns! He built and lent
   The heights for freedom’s battlement
Where floats her flag in triumph still!

Fold up the banners! Smelt the guns!
Love rules. Her gentler purpose runs.
   A mighty mother turns in tears
   The pages of her battle years,
Lamenting all her fallen sons!

Will Henry Thompson

Painting by Don Troiani

The Ballad of Chickamauga

The Ballad of Chickamauga

Maurice Thompson, Scout 63^rd GA Inf.

By Chickamauga’s crooked stream, the martial trumpets blew.   The North and South stood face to face, with War’s dread work to do.  O Lion-strong, unselfish, brave, twin athletes battle-wise, Brothers yet enemies, the fire of conflict in their eyes,

All banner-led and bugle-stirred, the set them to the fight, Hearing the god of slaughter laugh from mountain height to height.  The ruddy, fair-haired, giant North breathed loud and strove amain;The swarthy shoulders of the South did heave them to the strain;

An earthquake shuddered under foot, a cloud rolled overhead,  And serpent-tongued of flame cut through and lapped and twinkled red, Where back and forth a bullet-stream went singing like a breeze,What time the snarling cannon-balls to splinters tore the trees.

 “Make way, make way!” a voice boomed out, “I’m marching to the sea!” The answer was a rebel yell and Bragg’s artillery.  Where Negley struck, the cohorts gray like storm-tossed clouds were rent;  Where Buckner charged, a cyclone fell, the blue to tatters went;

The noble Brannan cheered his men, Pat Cleburne answered back, And Lytle stormed, and life was naught in Walthall’s bloody track.  Old Taylor’s Ridge rocked to its base, and Pigeon Mountain shook;  And Helm went down, and Lytle died, and broken was McCook.  Van Cleve moved like a hurricane, a tempest blew with Hood,

Awful the sweep of Breckinridge across the flaming wood.  Never before did battle-roar such chords of thunder make,  Never again shall tides of men over such barriers break.

 “Stand fast, stand fast!” cried Rosencrans; and Thomas said, “I will!” And crash on crash, his batteries dashed their broadsides down the hill.  Brave Longstreet’s splendid rush tore through whatever barred his track,  Till the Rock of Chickamauga hurled the roaring columns back,  And gave the tide of victory a red tinge of defeat,  Adding a noble dignity to that hard word, retreat.

 Two days they fought, and evermore those days shall stand apart, Key-notes of epic chivalry with the nation’s heart. 

Come, come, and set the carven rocks to mark the glorious spot;  Here let the deeds of heroes live, their hatreds be forgot.

 Build, build, but never monument shall last as long  As one old soldier’s ballad borne on breath of battle-song.

Northern Cannon at Oak Hill

Thomas F. Birchfield was a member of the 18^th Light Artillery Battery of Eli Lilly during the War between the States.  He enlisted on July 18, 1862 and mustered out June 30, 1865.  According to his family, he was given a cannon for his heroic actions.    He and a fellow soldier carried their General to safety after he had been wounded.  After the war, he lived in Crawfordsville and Terre Haute.  The old soldiers of Montgomery County used the cannon to celebrate the 4^th of July every year.  When he was on his death-bed, his wife asked him what they should do with the cannon.  He said, “Put it on my grave and point ‘er south.”