Blacksmith Wanted

After finding and being sent a few pictures of men in the 16th Texas Cavalry with the famed Bowie knives which so many Texas Confederates took to war, one particular image made me wonder exactly who the blacksmith or blacksmiths may have been who made the blades. There were six known blacksmiths who served in the 16th, but without exception, the three men who had their pictures taken with such weapons enlisted in Grayson County, Texas. More specifically, there were two from Company G, which was

Private John A. Deaver, Company G.

raised in Sherman on March 1, 1862, and one from Company D, which was raised near Mantua on February 20th of the same year. Private John A. Deaver was one of these. His photograph, shown at left, depicts him holding the blade up for the camera. Its rough but distinctive D-guard is plainly visible, clasped firmly in his hand. While there were likely many blacksmiths available, if the blade Deaver is holding was made by a fellow enlistee in Fitzhugh’s Regiment, the most likely candidate is David L. Lewis, a fellow Private in Company G. Not only was Lewis listed as a blacksmith in Grayson County in 1860 and in 1870, but his service record indicates that the Confederate army made use of his skills as a smith. In the summer of 1862, Trans-Mississippi Commander Thomas Hindman had ordered a small detachment of men from the 16th Texas Cavalry, as well as detachments from other regiments, to work as sappers and miners to build an earthwork fort at Arkansas Post. Lewis’ service record indicates that in August of that year he was part of that detachment. By November, he was detailed as one of their blacksmiths. By 1880, he was still a blacksmith, living in Van Alstyne in Grayson County.

Pvt. Zachariah Welch, Company G.

It was only as the 20th century dawned that he was found in a different profession. He made his living as a landlord from at least 1900 onward. His first wife, Vicey, died in 1888, and David remarried in 1894. He lived until 1918, and was buried in the city cemetery in Van Alstyne. Among the other blades that he may have made prior to entering the war is the blade at right, held by Private Zachariah Welch of the same company. The two blades bear a strong resemblance, including the small forward flourish on the front of the guard. The guard is also a very thin bar on both blades. There is little chance that an actual comparison could be made, as most such blades were discarded early on, as soldiers realized the impracticality of carrying such large, heavy weapons. John Deaver had likely discarded his by the time he was wounded at Milliken’s Bend in 1863. He survived the war by a mere four years, dying most likely of the effects of his wounds in 1869. Zachariah Welch, on the other hand, lived until 1895, and was buried in a family cemetery near Collinsville. If David Lewis was the bladesmith that crafted weapons for Welch and Deaver, he outlived his clients by a considerable span.

The third man pictured with such a blade is an unusual one. Sergeant Josiah Collins of Company D bears a blade that is not only much larger than those borne by Welch and

Sgt. Josiah Collins, Company D

Deaver, but one that features a distinctive, thick double D-guard. In all, it resembles a short sword more than it does a Bowie knife. As with Deaver and Welch, Sergeant Collins could have gone to any local blacksmith to have his weapon made. However, if he had it made by a man in his company, the only known blacksmith was Private John A. Bailey. Bailey was originally from Kentucky, and served in Company D with his younger brother, Robert. Their father, Tarleton Bailey, was himself a blacksmith, and had seemingly taught his craft to his eldest son. If it was indeed the younger blacksmith that made the Bowie knife for Collins, the beauty of his craftsmanship would not be seen for long. John A. Bailey was killed in action at the battle of Pleasant Hill, Louisiana on April 9, 1864. Josiah Collins lived far longer. Though he does not appear to have kept or passed down his beautiful Bowie, his portrait is still in the hands of his descendants. Collins himself remained in Texas, and died in Howe, Texas, on November 10, 1920. There is little doubt that many of them 16th took such blades to war. One veteran of the regiment remembered that they were armed with “hack knives made from buggy springs,” among their other implements of war. Exactly who the blacksmiths were who made them is unclear. Captain John Runnels Briscoe, a Baptist preacher and blacksmith, lived and pastored Churches all over the area where the ten companies of the 16th were raised. Other blacksmiths in the 16th included James Bray of Company A, Pinkston Pierson of Company B, and Finly Vanhuss of Company E. Bray died of pneumonia in 1870, and Vanhuss died in February, 1865. Pierson Pinkston appears to have returned to his native Missouri, where he disappeared from history. Whoever the men were who crafted such fierce weaponry, there is little doubt that they would be pleased that there are still men and women admiring the beauty of their craftsmanship over a century and a half later.

 

 

A Thousand Words

One historian has stated the opinion that if Northern men had enjoyed access to Southern portrait galleries in the early months of the Civil War, they might have been less inclined to join the Union Army. The reason for this was that in preparation for going to war, Southern men often had their picture taken as a memento for loved ones, frequently posing with weapons. Texan soldiers in particular, whether native-born or not, had a fondness for posing with large knives in the fashion of Alamo defender Jim Bowie. Some knives went far beyond the blade born by Bowie, being more a variety of short sword. While these rather impractical instruments of war were quickly recognized as such and discarded, they nonetheless made for fearsome portraiture. If the maxim that “a picture is worth a thousand words” is true, then the men of Texas wrote a collective visual essay on their readiness to fight. The men of the 16th Texas Cavalry, raised in three North Texas counties, were no exception. At left here is Sergeant Josiah

Sergeant Josiah Collins

Collins of Company D, raised in Grayson County. Approximately twenty-four when this picture was taken, Collins posed with a pistol and a knife, which appears to have a blade measuring some two-and-a-half feet. A teamster on the 1860 Census, Collins clearly dressed in his Sunday best for the portrait, though that is likely not the outfit in which he marched to war. It is also likely that this blade was custom-made for him, given the double-guard, an uncommon feature. In shape and size,

Private John A. Deaver

it is very similar to that of Private John Arthur Deaver of Company G, also from Grayson County. Deaver’s blade is a bit shorter than that of Collins, but features the same distinctive D-guard. Deaver also appears to have gone to some lengths to appear in his finery. He sports an elegantly tied neck-piece, a jacket with distinctive metal buttons, and a cape about his shoulders. Since the 16th was raised as a cavalry unit, he may well have been imagining himself as a dashing, romantic figure on horseback with his cape flying behind. The reality would be much different. Deaver would be wounded in the hand and thigh a little over a year after this picture was taken, while fighting on foot. His health never truly recovered, and he died in 1869. Others were less concerned with finery, and more

Private Samuel Ingraham

so with the ferocity of their appearance. Private Samuel Ingraham of Company A, a farmer in Gainesville, Texas, appears to have been one of these. Ingraham appears with a simple jacket and shirt, with a strap of some kind slung across his shoulder. Foregoing the type of knife carried by his comrades, Ingraham instead carries a single pistol. Also absent from Ingraham’s portrait is the apparent smile borne by the other two. Even given the prolonged exposure times of mid-19th century photography, Collins and Deaver appear to have held a satisfied grin. Ingraham, by contrast, looks gravely into the camera with little or no attempt at a smile. Sergeant John Samuel Bryan of Company B, comprised of men from Collin County, also appears with a pistol and a grim look. Bryan’s photograph shows simple attire, quite common for soldiers in the Trans-Mississippi Department, who did not always wear gray or “butternut” uniforms. Unlike Collins, Ingraham, and

John S. Bryan, image courtesy the Indiana State Historical Library

Deaver, Bryan’s pistol, while on display, is firmly holstered. It would not be so at the battle of Mansfield, Louisiana on April 8, 1864. There, Bryan received a fatal wound, and died just over a week later. Not all early photos of Texan or Confederate soldiers in general, appear bearing such weapons. Some simply depict the man in question, as in the

John R. Briscoe

case of Captain John Runnels Briscoe of Company E. A Baptist preacher and blacksmith, Runnels appears only from the chest up, and bears a peaceful smile befitting a minister. Briscoe’s portrait is known to be pre-war, since he died in November, 1862 of an illness contracted while in service. Similarly, his brother, James Briscoe, appears in a portrait that seems to have been taken around the

A portrait believed to be James Briscoe

same time. James Briscoe also appears without weapons, but displays a large and powerful pair of hands, while seated before a decorative background.

Further into the war, the portraits appear to have changed. Men with exposure to combat no longer had their exaggerated Bowie knives, nor a need to demonstrate their willingness to fight. Battlefields across the country had shown ample proof of it. Yet, Southern soldiers had not entirely given up on showing their ferocity in combat. This time, instead of the menacing portraits brandishing weapons, there was instead an altogether more menacing element present, however unintentional. It is no secret that Confederate soldiers, poorly equipped, and often lacking proper clothing, let alone a uniform, would strip dead foes of both weaponry and clothing. Corporal Bartlett Hutton of

Cpl. Bartlett Hutton

Company G, from Grayson County, appears to have stripped, at the very least, a Yankee cap. The darkness of his jacket suggests that it may have been Federal in origin, as well.  The date of Hutton’s picture is unknown, but the excellent condition of his cap suggests that it was a recent prize. This makes it likely that the photograph was taken between mid-1862 and early 1864, perhaps on a visit home. Contact with the enemy was at its highest during this period, and practically nonexistent in late 1864 and the months leading up to the end of the war. There are other portraits early in or prior to the war, which show an altogether different side of the men. Private George Marshall Trout was nineteen years

Pvt. George M. Trout

old when he enlisted near Sherman, Texas. His clothes are loose-fitting, suggesting that he was still growing into them. The look of boredom on his face indicates the restlessness of youth – an innocence all too soon to be taken by exposure to combat.

Wiley Turner Barnes of Company K was a medical student in 1860. Nine years older than Trout, his face is still full of

Pvt. Wiley T. Barnes

youth. Barnes is neatly dressed, as with Sergeant Collins. His demeanor, though, it not threatening. His expression is serious, a common feature of 19th century photographs, but as with George Trout, there is little to suggest that he is going to war. For those that survived, as is the case with soldiers in any war, they were not the same. The war transformed them into confident young men, and wiser, experienced older men. There is no telling how the war may have changed men like John Deaver and John Bryan. Portraits of Trout and Barnes later in life, however, are quite revealing.

George Trout.

George Trout grew into his looks, and in the place of the pimple-faced teenager, there is a well-groomed, serious-faced young man. He stands upright, head erect, facing the camera, instead of slouching with his head cocked in boredom, as in the younger photograph. Trout lived until 1910, with much of that time spent living in Bonham, Texas. Wiley Barnes continued his medical training after the war, and became a physician. His experience is evident in his face and demeanor in the later photograph. Taken much later in life than Trout’s,

Wiley Barnes

Barnes’ second portrait also shows a bewhiskered face, but one with the experience of age. Barnes died in 1901, having spent most of his life in Rockwall, Texas. The men who survived, and stayed with Fitzhugh’s Regiment to the end of the war had seen five battles in two States. Only one of these had been as mounted cavalry, and it was far from the romantic cavalry charges that they may have envisioned. The remainder were fought on foot, and included one of the most savage hand-to-hand engagements of the war. For those who had their pictures taken with weapons, their resolve to fight was to be sorely tested. For those who plundered souvenirs from the battlefield, there was still bloodshed to witness, and to commit. The men of the 16th Texas Cavalry had their share of both. Perhaps the most striking photograph from the regiment, however, comes from a Company Captain. James Samuel Pattie was one of the original recruiters for the regiment. His portrait, years after the war, bears silent testament to the horrors of the battlefield, and of leading men who did not come back. Some soldiers refer to the expression as the “thousand yard stare.” If, as the maxim says, a picture is worth a thousand words, the silence from these is beyond estimation.

Captain James S. Pattie

Captain Wanted

Company G of the 16th Texas Cavalry was assembled at Sherman, Texas by James H. Tuttle on March 1, 1862. The volunteers were then sworn in by Justice of the Peace Joel

James H. Tuttle

Hagee. The regiment assembled and elected officers in McKinney on March 10, and  James H. Tuttle was elected Company Captain. The regiment briefly camped near McKinney at Sherley Springs, before moving on to Clarksville, Texas, and then into Arkansas. There, the regiment clashed with the Yankees on July 7, and was dismounted a week later. At some point during this time, Captain Tuttle resigned his commission and left the army. The man who replaced him was Mailton W. King, who had served as a Private in Company G up until that point. By all accounts, King was an excellent officer, but was taken down by a single, unfortunate incident.

It is hardly in dispute that many Civil War soldiers enjoyed their drink. The men of the 16th Texas seem to have been no exception to that. General Henry McCulloch, temporarily in command of the Division to which the 16th was attached, instructed Captain King to take a detachment of his men and destroy a quantity of whiskey which a local citizen had been selling to the soldiers. Before the entire quantity had been destroyed, both Captain King and his men took the opportunity to enjoy a drink or two. The good Captain seems to have imbibed more than most, though he remained sober enough to realize that he could not go back to camp in his condition without a sanction from General McCulloch. Captain King therefore sent his men back to camp, some of them smuggling whiskey in the barrels of their guns, while he went to find a place to spend the night. Intending to return to camp sober the next morning, King instead wandered  into the camp of another regiment. The regiment’s commander had placed his tent adjacent to a house. King, astride his horse, rode up to the house, and demanded loudly, “Who in the hell lives here?” This sudden appearance drew the Commanding Officer from his tent, and prompted him to demand the identity of the intruder. “I am E Pluribus Unum, by God!” King replied. “I have been looking for E Pluribus Unum,” the Commander stated, “and now I have found him.” So saying, he directed his men to arrest King. A fierce struggle ensued, with King fighting desperately from atop his horse. He did not, in fact, give up the fight until he had been wounded several times by the bayonets of the guards. King’s drunken episode thus came to light, despite his best efforts. McCulloch forgave the incident, though the Commander into whose encampment King had wandered demanded a court martial. The shame of the brawl and subsequent arrest was too much for King to endure, and he resigned his commission in November. For the second time within a year – the first year of its existence – Company G was without a Captain.

Command of the Company then fell to a third man, who had worked his way up in the ranks to the office of Lieutenant. John W. Connelly had been a schoolteacher among the Choctaw prior to the war. His time among that tribe had earned him the nickname of “Old Choc,”

Portrait of Captain Connelly courtesy of the Fannin County Historical Commission.

and it was by this name that he was frequently addressed by his men. Connelly was promoted to the office in November, and would remain in command until the following June. At the end of December, a new Division Commander replaced General McCulloch: General John George Walker. Walker was a veteran of Robert E. Lee’s Command, and had been a Confederate Commander at the infamous “Bloody Lane” at the battle of Antietam. Walker placed McCulloch in charge of the Division’s Third Brigade, which included the 19th Texas Infantry, the 17th Texas Infantry, the 16th Texas Infantry, and the now dismounted 16th Texas Cavalry. Under Walker, the regiment would attempt to relieve Fort Hindman at Arkansas Post in January, 1863, but arrived too late, and on the wrong side of the river to be of any assistance. Their next strike would be at Milliken’s Bend on June 7, 1863, where they would clash with the newly-formed African Brigade. The 16th Texas Cavalry took on the 11th Louisiana Infantry, African Descent, which later became the 49th United States Colored Infantry. In that engagement, Connelly recalled having to draw his saber, and hack an opening in a large bois d’arc hedge for his men to pass through in order to reach the enemy. Many of them were barefoot, he recalled, and had their feet torn by briers that grew freely on the ground. A savage hand-to-hand combat followed, in which many men of the 16th were bayoneted, or struck down by clubbed muskets. Connelly even years later was disturbed by the memory of the hospital scenes after the battle, and the piles of amputated limbs he saw.

On June 15, Walker’s Division was resting at Richmond, Louisiana, a few miles away from the battlefield. General Ulysses Grant was disturbed by their presence, and sent a detachment of his forces to drive Walker from the area. In the action that followed, the 16th Texas Cavalry acted as the Division’s rearguard, and Captain Connelly was taken prisoner along with four of his men. Over the next three years, Connelly would spend time in three different Federal prison camps, Alton, Johnson’s Island, and Point Lookout. In less than eighteen months, Company G had gone through three Captains. Neither the regiment’s service records nor a roster assembled many years later by one of its veterans listed a fourth Captain for Company G. Who led it at the battles of Mansfield, Pleasant Hill, and Jenkin’s Ferry, and up until its disbandment in April, 1865 remains a mystery.

James H. Tuttle died in 1880, and his burial site is unknown at this time. Captain King quietly slipped away to parts unknown, and John Connelly returned to North Texas, where he pursued the path of a minister.

An Interview With A Descendant – Blair Leatherwood

Blair Leatherwood

Today, we are here with Blair Leatherwood, a descendant of men who served in the 16th Texas Cavalry. Mr. Leatherwood has graciously taken the time to speak about his ancestors, how he found them, and what that discovery means to him. For this, and for the picture of his ancestor, he has our sincerest thanks.

 

FR: First off, Blair, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself? 

BL: Basic information is that I’m 61 years old, living in California. In the days when I had a day job, I worked for 25 years in the insurance industry. Now I’m an actor, doing primarily theater work but also commercials and film. I’m married (coming up on 35 years), with a house and two cats. No kids. My family (both sides) have been on this continent since the colonial era, with one line that was already here to meet them. I’m fascinated by history—you wouldn’t believe how much historical research I’ve had to do in the theater, and genealogy just seems to fall into that category as well.

 

FR: You had at least two relatives in the 16^th. Who were they, and how are they connected to you? 

BL: They are two of my 3^rd great-grandfathers. One is Hector Darling, the other is Media (or Meady, in some sources) Noble White. Hector was born in New York in 1817, and wound up in New Orleans with his older brother Jesse in the early 1840s. The family story is that Hector ran away from New York to avoid an unwanted marriage (or to engage in an unapproved marriage; it’s not clear). By 1850, Hector had married and had his first child, William C Darling (my 2^nd great-grandfather). At some point in the 1850s, the family moved to Hunt County, Texas, where the other four Darling children were born.

Media was born in Alabama in 1827, married in Arkansas, and was in Hunt County by 1860. Two of his six children were born in Arkansas, the rest in Texas. For some reason, no one talked much about that side of the family, although his daughter’s second husband’s family was visited frequently by Darling relatives (based on newspaper clippings about comings and goings).

 

FR: Did they serve for long in the Confederate Army? 

BL: Hector and Media enlisted in the 16^th on the same day—19 Feb 1862. Media had apparently been a member of the Texas State Troops in 1861. Hector appears on one muster roll card dated 10 Mar 1862; Media’s last muster roll card is from April 1865, which states that on 3 Apr 1865 he deserted on the march.

 

FR: Do you have any idea what made Hector Darling leave Confederate service? 

BL: I have no information about that. I could make some guesses, but they wouldn’t be founded on any actual knowledge.

 

FR: Did he serve in a Union outfit of any kind after leaving the 16^th? 

BL: Not that I know of.

 

FR: What ultimately happened to him? 

BL: He was ambushed and killed some time in 1864 or 1865 (sources differ, but the most reliable seems to be 1865). His body was left by the side of the East Caddo River. One story that’s been passed down says that his head was removed, placed in the horse cart, and the horse was left to find its way home. Six days later, the body was located and buried where it lay. Some time around 1905, the body was disinterred and reburied in the as-yet-not-located “Clinton graveyard” next to his wife. Five buckshot were found with the remains.

 

FR: Is there any suspicion of who killed him? 

BL: The only sources I have state that it was “Shelby’s men, on account of his Northern sympathies.”

 

FR: Your other relative, Media White, was he already Hector’s son-in-law while they were in service together? 

BL: No. Hector’s son William C married Media’s daughter Mary Jane in 1867, shortly before William C’s mother (and Hector’s widow) Mary Ann remarried.

 

FR: How do you think he felt about Hector’s departure? 

BL: I don’t know. I’m sure it’s complicated, but their children did marry very shortly after these events. Sadly, William C died about five years later. Mary Jane remarried, and my great-grandfather William Adelbert Darling (who was only 2 when his father died) seems to have remained close to the White family. No stories about that side of the family (the Whites) have been passed down to me, unlike stories about the Darlings. If there was any major conflict within the family, I haven’t found any evidence of it.

 

FR: What became of Media and his wife? 

BL: Media remained in Texas, and died in 1900 in Jack County. His wife, Philpean “Piney” Jarman White died in 1897, also in Jack County. I haven’t run across any personal records on either of them, but I’m still looking. I’ve done the usual genealogical hunt, so I know where they were and when. I assume they lived fairly uneventful lives.

 

FR: What sparked your interest in researching your ancestors? 

BL: Long story. I grew up knowing very little about my family history. My Dad’s parents were killed in an automobile accident when I was two, so I never got what I call the “grandparent stories”. My Dad’s brother was significantly older than he was and we were in different states (we were in California, my uncle in Texas), and we didn’t really establish a connection until much later in life.

On my mother’s side (the Darling/White line), my mother’s parents divorced when she was about three years old, and it was not pretty. Her biological father was told to leave and was never a part of her life. My grandmother (Hector’s great-granddaughter) didn’t talk much about her family and, by the time I became interested in genealogy, had suffered a couple of strokes and wasn’t able to communicate. I’m assuming she would have talked about the Darlings, but I never got the chance to ask.

To top all of that off, no one in my family seems to have kept a Bible, or much in the way of photographs. Everyone seems to have been doing their best to not leave a paper trail.

In 1992, my wife and I went to Sweden to visit some of her relatives (her grandparents were the immigrants to the US), and that’s when I first became aware of my lack of knowledge of my own family. My uncle (my Dad’s brother) did have a very short list of ancestry on that side of the family (twelve names, if I recall), and I started with that. In the 26 years since, I’ve built a fairly substantial tree with some lines going back to the 16^th century. What I have learned is how deeply my heritage—on all sides—is connected to the founding and growth of this country.

 

FR: How do you view the legacy left to you by Hector Darling and Media White? 

BL: I think it really exemplifies the complexity of the time. I don’t know how they viewed their roles in the war. I don’t know if they were fighting for their state or their country. I don’t know how much Hector’s upbringing in the North affected his views of the South, and I don’t know how his time in Louisiana changed any of that. I know Media was born, raised and lived in the South, but I don’t know his feelings, either. One of the things I’ve learned over the course of my time in the archives is that you can’t pass judgment and you can’t make assumptions. You must accept these people as they were, and acknowledge that they are, indeed, a part of history and how they lived and died is a legacy. I can only marvel at what they did and what they lived through, and be thankful that they managed to survive a war and create a family. I continue on my search for more information about them, and each piece I discover brings me a little closer to seeing them as individuals.

Hector and Mary Ann Darling, 3rd great grandparents of Blair Leatherwood.

Captain James D. Woods

James D. Woods. Image courtesy Texas State Preservation Board

James Dinwiddie Woods was born October 24, 1834 to Levi Woods and Arantha Dinwiddie in Carroll County, Tennessee. As Woods grew to manhood, he took an interest in law, and studied at Cumberland University in Lebanon, Tennessee. He was admitted to the bar in Tennessee at the age of 23. Around the same time as his admission to the bar, he married for the first time, to Sue Porter. The couple moved to Texas in 1858, and took up residence in Sherman. Once in Texas, James Woods also took an interest in politics, and in 1861, he was elected to the Texas House of Representatives, serving from Grayson County.

On February 22, 1862, Woods joined the Confederate Army in what would shortly

General Thomas Hindman

become the 16th Texas Cavalry, under the command of Colonel William Fitzhugh. Elected Captain of Company C on March 10, Woods soon became Senior Captain of the Regiment. He fought at the battle of Cotton Plant, Arkansas on July 7, 1862, the only battle in which the 16th Texas Cavalry fought while mounted. The regiment was dismounted a week after Cotton Plant on the order of Trans-Mississippi Commander Thomas Hindman. Later in the year, the regiment was attached to a new infantry division under the command of Brigadier General Henry E. McCulloch. The division was to be unique in the Civil War, being composed, throughout its entire existence, of regiments from a single State: Texas. Later in the year, the Division was given a new Commander in the form of John George Walker, and was known as Walker’s Texas Division.

 

In early 1863, the regiment received orders to assist at the battle of Arkansas Post, but arrived too late, and on the wrong side of the river to assist. Soon after, Walker’s Division was ordered south into eastern Louisiana in an effort to relieve the besieged Confederate garrison at Vicksburg. The intent was to cut one of Ulysses Grant’s supply lines at Milliken’s Bend. Attached to Walker’s Third Brigade, the 16th Texas Cavalry would assault Milliken’s Bend along with the three other regiments of the Brigade now under the command of Henry McCulloch. The 16th Texas Infantry acted as skirmishers, engaging and driving back the Federal pickets before daylight on June 7, 1863, before being put into reserve. The remaining three regiments were put into line of battle with the 19th Texas Infantry taking the Confederate left, the 17th Texas Infantry in the center, and the 16th Texas Dismounted Cavalry on the left. Because of the removal of some thirty yards of bois d’arc hedge the day before, the 19th Texas Infantry had a clear path to approach the levee (indicated by slashed lines in the schematic above), whereas the 17th Infantry and the 16th Cavalry were obliged to cut openings in the hedge to

Henry McCulloch

approach the enemy lines. Coming through a little at a time, the regiment charged the lines, meeting the 11th Louisiana Infantry, African Descent (later the 49th USCI) head-on. The interim Commanding Officer, Colonel Edward Gregg, was shot in the thigh and had to be removed from the field. Shortly afterward, Major William Diamond received an identical injury, and command then fell to James D. Woods, as Senior Captain. According to General McCulloch’s report, the regiment fought even harder under Woods, forcing the 11th back to the western bank of the Mississippi. Fire from Federal gunboats forced the Confederates back, and by noon, it was clear that no further progress could be made. McCulloch’s Brigade withdrew to nearby Richmond, Louisiana.

With Colonel Fitzhugh absent on recruiting duty in Texas, and both remaining Field Officers incapacitated, Captain Woods found himself in command of the regiment until Gregg and Diamond were healed. Fitzhugh would not return until October, bringing fresh recruits. Captain Woods would fight in three more battles. The back-to-back battles of Mansfield and Pleasant Hill, Louisiana on April 8-9, 1864, and the battle of Jenkin’s Ferry, Arkansas on April 30. In May, 1865, the regiment had been ordered to Camp Groce near Hempstead, Texas along with the rest of Walker’s Texas Division. There, word came that Robert E. Lee had surrendered. The Texans seized wagons, horses, mules, and supplies, and headed home.

After the war, Woods continued to indulge his love of politics, and in 1866, he was elected District Attorney for the Twentieth Judicial District. In 1869, Woods suffered a very personal loss with the death of his wife. He soon remarried, this time to Amanda Ellison Coffey, with whom he had three children, bringing his total to seven. In 1873, he was elected as Mayor of Sherman. Shortly after, he was made the commissioner of the Sherman, Wichita, and Panhandle Railway. Beginning in the late 1870s, Woods began working with his former Colonel, Edward Gregg, also of Sherman, to organize regimental reunions. He later helped to found, and served as the Commander of the Mildred Lee Camp Chapter of the United Confederate Veterans. In 1893, he once again ran for office as a member of the Texas House of Representatives, and served in the House for three consecutive terms from 1893-1899. In 1898, he became the County Judge for Grayson County, and served in that capacity for four years. During that period, Wood’s signature can be found on Confederate Pension applications for some of the men of the 16th Texas Cavalry. While witnesses were called to attest to the service of the veterans, it was probably reassuring to have their old Captain on the bench. In 1903, Woods was again elected as the Representative for Grayson County, and won two terms. His second term was cut short, as the old soldier died on October 16, 1905. His body was laid to rest in West Hill Cemetery in Sherman.

James D. Woods’ gravestone in West Hill Cemetery

 

Jenkin’s Ferry: 153 Years

April 30th marks the 153rd anniversary of the battle of Jenkin’s Ferry, Arkansas, which drove back the northern half of the two-headed Red River Campaign. The Federal Army had launched the campaign in early 1864 with the intent to invade Texas through

Frederick Steele

Louisiana. General Nathaniel Banks had come upriver to cross Louisiana from the west, while General Frederick Steele fought his way south through Arkansas. The combined forces were to meet at Shreveport, and move into Texas from there. The back-to-back battles of Mansfield and Pleasant Hill on April 8th and 9th had forced Banks to retreat and abandon his plans. Now, General E. Kirby-Smith, Commander of the Confederate Trans-Mississippi Department had to face Steele. To help drive Steele back, much to the chagrin of his subordinate, General Richard Taylor, he would call on the men of Walker’s Texas Division. Known as “Walker’s Greyhounds” for their ability to cover large distances at great speed, Walker’s Division would exhaust itself pursuing Steele to Jenkin’s Ferry.

The 16th Texas Cavalry was attached to Walker’s Third Brigade under the command of

William Scurry

General William R. Scurry. Other troops under Kirby-Smith’s control had caught up to Steele ahead of Walker’s men. Steele, in the process of escaping across the Saline River at Jenkin’s Ferry, was forced to turn and fight. The battle was fought in a blinding rain, turning the battlefield into a flooded mudpit. The immense amount of water prevented Confederate troops from flanking Steele. The 16th Texas Cavalry marched through heavy mud, and arrived at the battlefield already exhausted from the ordeal. The darkness of the sky had been broken only by lightning, revealing endless rows of flashing bayonets for the hindermost troops. When Walker’s Division arrived, they were sent through a path in the woods to attack Steele. It was intended that they would arrive at a different part of the battlefield and flank him, but the road they took led straight into the open space where the Missouri regiments that had preceded them took such a heavy beating from Steele’s men. Many of them had been cut down while trying to surrender, supposedly in vengeance for the massacre of black soldiers at Poison Springs earlier in the campaign.

Pvt. Andrew Jackson Lucas, Co. H

Of Walker’s three Brigade Commanders, only one would survive, Thomas Neville Waul. The others, Horace Randall and William Scurry, were both mortally wounded. For two hours, Scurry lay in the mucky water, refusing to be taken to safety. At last, when Steele had retreated across the Saline, Scurry asked, “Have we whipped them?” When he was told that he had won, he said “Now take me to a house where I can be made comfortable and die easy.” Among the soldiers who carried him from the field was Private Andrew Jackson Lucas of the 16th Texas Cavalry. Scurry was commemorated in an obituary penned by Captain William T. G. Weaver of the 16th’s Company E. Weaver’s pen was appropriated by Joseph Blessington in his book The Campaigns of Walker’s Texas Division to honor both Scurry and Randall, who had died within hours of each other on May 1. “Over their coffins let us alternately strew clusters of myrtle and cypress – emblems in life of delight; garlands of affection in death.”

The casualties taken among the 16th Texas were few, amounting to only eight. Of these, three were killed outright, and two fatally wounded. Among the fatally wounded was

The tombstone of Jesse H. Scott in Batsell Cemetery

Private Jesse Scott of Company C. Private Scott recovered enough to be able to travel home to Grayson County, where he died on August 9th. His body was laid to rest in Batsell Cemetery with the inscription “Let the tenor of my life speak for me.” To date, Scott is the only man killed or mortally wounded in the 16th Texas Cavalry, whose grave site is known. The burial sites of the others remain unknown. This was the last action which the regiment would see, though they remained in active service until May 20, 1865, when they were disbanded at Camp Groce, near Hempstead, Texas. Jenkin’s Ferry saw the least bloodshed of all their engagements. This is probably due in part to the decimation of the regiment at Mansfield and Pleasant Hill earlier in the month. Today, we honor all the fallen, even as other monuments come down. This will remain.

Minie Balls to Atomic Bombs

Charles William Batsell was born August 23, 1839 in Kentucky. By the late 1850s, Batsell had moved to Sherman, Texas, where he and his elder brother Thomas settled. On March 1, 1862, the two brothers enlisted in what was to become the 16th Texas Cavalry under Captain James H. Tuttle. The brothers fought together at the battle of Cotton Plant, Arkansas, on July 7, 1862, and survived the outbreak of disease at Camp Nelson, Arkansas. In Arkansas, their regiment was assigned to a new division composed only of Texas regiments, under the

Gen. John G. Walker

command of General Henry McCulloch. Later, McCulloch was relegated to command of the Third Brigade of the Division, to which the 16th Texas Cavalry was assigned. McCulloch’s replacement was the Confederate Commander at Bloody Lane in the battle of Antietam, General John George Walker. The next Spring, Walker’s Texas Division received orders to moved south into Louisiana to disrupt the supply lines of Union General Ulysses Grant, then besieging Vicksburg, Mississippi. The action was intended to relieve the Confederate garrison of that city. In late May, the Division arrived in Madison Parish, Louisiana, where a surprise attack was planned

Henry McCulloch

on a Federal supply line at Milliken’s Bend. Unfortunately, in a rash decision, Third Brigade Commander Henry McCulloch attacked an insignificant Federal outpost at nearby Perkins Landing, thereby giving away the element of surprise for the attack to come. On June 7, Charles Batsell, now a Sergeant in Fitzhugh’s Regiment, and his brother Thomas, now a Lieutenant, took part in the battle of Milliken’s Bend. In the course of the battle, Thomas Batsell was wounded in the head – an injury that would soon prove fatal. Though the Confederates drove the Union force, composed mainly of newly-formed black regiments, back to the Mississippi River, artillery fire from Federal gunboats forced them to withdraw. Thomas Batsell was carried on a stretcher back to Richmond, Louisiana, where he languished for a week before the regiment again withdrew to Monroe. The elder Batsell brother died, either en-route to Monroe, or in the hospital there. Two months later, Charles Batsell had been returned to McKinney, Texas, where he worked in the army’s subsistence department. In early 1865, he was on detached service as a herder, but rejoined the regiment on April 11, while the regiment was resting at Piedmont Springs, Texas. Soon, they moved out to their intended destination at Camp Groce, adjacent to Liendo Plantation near Hempstead, Texas. Here, news came of Robert E. Lee’s surrender at Appomattox. Upon receiving this news, Walker’s Texas Division melted away, many without waiting for discharge. Sergeant Charles Batsell would later recall in his Confederate pension application, “I…was never either discharged or surrendered. I am still a confederate soldier so far as formal discharge or parol are concerned.”

Charles Batsell Winstead

Prior to his enlistment in 1862, Charles Batsell had married Elizabeth Clements. Several years later, Elizabeth died, and Charles remarried. His second wife was Rosa Thomas, a woman considerably younger than himself. On July 11, 1872, a daughter was born to the couple, whom they named Mae Batsell. In 1890, Mae married Washington Lee Winstead, and the next year, their first child was born. Mae named him for her father, giving him the Charles Batsell Winsteadname Charles Batsell Winstead. Winstead was born and raised in Sherman, Texas. He grew up knowing his namesake grandfather, Civil War veteran Sgt. Charles Batsell. The elderly veteran passed away in 1917, having seen the dawn of modern

Stephen Lang as Winstead in Public Enemies

warfare in World War I. Charles B. Winstead moved from Sherman to Chicago, where he became an agent of the FBI. In his 40s by this time, Batsell’s hair was already pure white. In traditional Texas style, he wore a large hat and boots, even as an agent. In the 1930s, Winstead was part of the FBI task force that took down gangsters like Baby Face Nelson. Winstead personally assisted in Nelson’s capture. On July 22, 1934, Winstead was part of the team that waited for gangster John Dillinger outside the Biograph Theater in Chicago. As Dillinger emerged, Winstead and his team sprang into action. Winstead himself fired the fatal shot that took down the notorious outlaw. In 2009, Winstead’s role in ending Dilliger’s criminal career was immortalized in the film Public Enemies, where Winstead was played by actor Stephen Lang. The clip of Dillinger’s death in the film can be seen here (Warning: GRAPHIC CONTENT):

After the Dillinger killing, Batsell remained with the FBI for only a short time. The coming years saw the outbreak of World War II, and December 7, 1941 saw the United States go to war with the Empire of Japan. Winstead entered the United States military during this period. His peacetime experience in the FBI under J. Edgar Hoover made him a perfect fit for military intelligence and security. Among the projects that Winstead oversaw during his military career was the top-secret operations of the Manhattan Project at Los Alamos, New

A nuclear test at Los Alamos, 1945

Mexico. This was the project which gave the world its first atomic bombs, later dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan, in an effort to end the War in the Pacific. Charles Winstead later recalled having guests arriving in Los Alamos checked into bugged rooms in a local hotel. Winstead and his men would then eavesdrop on their “guest” from a nearby house. After the end of World War II, Winstead left the army, but remained in New Mexico. In the late 1950s, he was appointed the State’s Liquor Inspector. Until his death in Albuquerque in 1973, Winstead raised horses, and often rode a mule with a local Sheriff’s posse. In three generations, Winstead’s family had gone from the days of minie balls, bayonets, and Napoleonic tactics, to warplanes, and atomic bombs. It is odd to think that a man who oversaw security for the construction of the atomic bomb once sat on the knee of an old Confederate veteran, and listened to his stories. Yet this is the case, and a boy from northeast Texas helped to usher out organized crime in Chicago’s most notorious era, and usher in the nuclear age. Whatever Charles Batsell would have thought of the atomic age, he would doubtless have been proud of his grandson, who carried his name into a new era.

What Happened to the Gunboats?

The Union gunboat USS Lexington

The Confederate army was not overly fond of Union gunboats. At Shiloh in April, 1862 the

The grave of Cpl. Coonrod in Bonham, Texas.

USS Lexington had been one of two gunboats that shelled the Confederate lines. Among the soldiers there was Corporal John Coonrod of the 9th Texas Infantry. Coonrod took a one ounce ball to the leg in that battle, and was wounded again at Kennesaw Mountain, where shrapnel from an exploding shell struck him in the head, and a minie ball took one of his fingers. Fourteen months later, Coonrod’s future father-in-law, Private William Smithey of the 16th Texas Cavalry, was with his regiment when it attacked the Federal garrison at Milliken’s Bend on June 7, 1863. At that time, the 16th Texas Cavalry was attached to the Third Brigade of Walker’s Texas Division under General Henry McCulloch. While the Texas troops were able to push the Federals back to the banks of the Mississippi River, they soon came under heavy fire from none other than the USS Lexington, assisted by the USS Choctaw. The two gunboats pushed McCulloch’s Brigade back from what would certainly have been a Confederate victory. General Richard Taylor, overseeing Walker’s Texas Division, was less than pleased, not because of the interference of the gunboats, but because the Confederate troops pulled back under their fire. I would be less than a year that Taylor would plan a retreat specifically to avoid gunboats.

 

The USS Choctaw patrolling the Mississippi River. The city of Vicksburg is visible in the background.

The 16th Texas Cavalry, and Walker’s Texas Division as a whole would not see the last of Federal gunboats. In November, 1863, Walker’s Division was stationed near Simmesport, Louisiana, at a point naturally hazardous to river traffic, below the junction of the Red and Mississippi Rivers. There, Edgar’s battery would blast unwary Federal shipping, passenger steamboats, and Federal gunboats, supported by small arms fire from Walker’s Infantry. These craft were often supported by Union gunboats, who fired largely without effect on the well-placed Confederate lines. It was no doubt to the delight of Walker’s Texans when the selfsame USS Choctaw that had shelled them at Milliken’s Bend months earlier came to the defense of their first victim, the gunboat USS Signal. The Choctaw blasted shrapnel shells at the artillery position, causing the gunners to scramble to save their guns, and to seek shelter against the bank. The infantry, however, continued to pour a stream of lead at the ironclad beast. Among the other, more serious victims of Walker’s gunners was the transport Black Hawk, whose pilot house was shattered by canister shot, and the pilot killed. The boat, already on fire, ran aground, and the passengers quickly jumped ship and ran into the nearby woods. The Captain’s brother had his leg torn of by shot, and a James Keller of the 22nd Kentucky Vols. had his arm shattered, dying soon after. Another passenger, a young black man by the name of Alfred Thomas was decapitated.

 

On December 8th the USS Neosho was escorting the steamer Henry Von Phul upstream to St.

The Henry Von Phul

Louis, when she came within the gunsights of Walker’s Texans. The ship’s Captain, Patrick Gorman, was struck in the abdomen and disemboweled by a round shot which penetrated the pilot house. The ship’s barkeeper was also killed. A reporter who happened to be on board wrote afterward that ” a sheet of wet paper would afford as much resistance to a paving-stone as the walls of a steam cabin to a six-pound shot.” An estimated twenty shells penetrated the unfortunate ship, three below the water line. The selfsame reporter had one explode

Surviving veterans of the 165th New York Infantry Zouaves march in a parade

beneath his cabin. Those not struck by projectiles were likely to be hit by large wood splinters. Though Walker’s Division could not have known it, their actions were making headlines as far away as Great Britain. The Henry Von Phul was their last victim, as they left for Simmesport the next day. It was to be their last encounter with the Union gunboats, but what became of these ironclad monsters? A large number of their flesh-and-blood counterparts lived well into old age, including their last foes at Mansfield, the 165th New York Infantry Zouaves. For enemies made of wood and metal, life was far shorter.

 

The USS Lexington was timberclad, sidewheel steamship. It had joined the war in the West

The USS Lexington

in August, 1861, and operated under Ulysses Grant in attack on Paducah and Smithland, Kentucky in September. She also heavily damaged the Confederate gunboat CSS Jackson days later at Lucas Bend, Missouri. The Lexington also took part in the battles of Belmont, Fort Henry, Shiloh, St. Charles, Arkansas, Yazoo River, the capture of Fort Hindman, where Walker’s Division got their first sight of her, Milliken’s Bend, and the Red River Campaign. The Lexington covered General Nathaniel Banks and his men as they retreated from Pleasant Hill, and was one of the gunboats firing on the Confederates when General Tom Green of Walker’s Texas Division was decapitated by a Union shell. She saw her last action in June 1864, when she captured two Confederate steamships laden with cotton, and then pushed back a Confederate attack at White River Station. On June 5, 1865, she sailed into Mound City, Illinois, and was decommissioned there the next month. One of her successors was an aircraft carrier, which played a vital role in World War II’s Pacific Campaign. Today, it can be seen drydocked in Corpus Christi, Texas, the State against whose troops her namesake fought so many times.

 

The USS Choctaw

The USS Choctaw was also a sidewheel steamer, constructed in 1853, and launched in 1856. Originally a merchant ship, the United States Navy bought her in late 1862, and converted her to an ironclad gunboat and ram with a crew complement of 106. Her arms included one 100lb rifle, three 9-inch smoothbore cannons, and two 30lb rifles. On April 23, 1863 she took part in a diversionary action at Haynes Bluff, Mississippi, during which she was hit no less than 53 times. On June 7, 1863 she participated in the battle of Milliken’s Bend, and for the rest of the war, patrolled the Mississippi. Between March and May 1864, she also took part in the capture of Fort DeRussy, Louisiana. On July 20, 1865, she sailed into Algiers, Louisiana, and was decommissioned there two days later. She was sold into private hands at New Orleans the following March.

 

The USS Black Hawk, while not a gunboat, was a troop transport. Built in 1848, she was

The USS Black Hawk

purchased by the Union Navy in November, 1862, and christened the New Uncle Sam. Less than a month later, she was renamed the Black Hawk. She took part in the siege of Vicksburg, and the capture of Fort Hindman alongside the Lexington. She also took part in actions at Haines Bluff, and the Red River Campaign. On April 22, 1865, she caught fire and sank near Cairo, Illinois. Two years later, she was raised, and then sold at St. Louis.

 

USS Neosho

The USS Neosho was unique among the gunboats that Walker’s Division faced. Purpose-built in 1863, she came in at a hulking 523 tons (less than the Choctaw, which weighed 1,004). Her main gun turret was steam-operated, and consisted of two 9-inch Dahlgren guns. The guns weighed 16,000lbs each, could fire a 136lb shell over 3,500 yards, and were protected by 6-inch

A Dahlgren gun

armor. She saw action on the Cumberland River, and the battle of Nashville. The Neosho also supported Federal troops during the Red River Campaign, and in a fight at Bells’ Mill, Tennessee on December 6, 1864, she escaped serious damage, despite being hit over 100 times. In her last action, she shelled Confederate positions at the battle of Nashville. On July 23, 1865, she was decommissioned at Mound City, Illinois, and put in reserve. Her name was changed twice in 1869, first to Vixen, and then to Osceola. She remained out of service until 1873, when she was sold for a total of $13, 600; less than the cost of a modern car.

The gunships of the Civil War had a fearsome reputation. Perhaps the most famous clash was the USS Monitor against the CSS Virginia (formerly the USS Merrimack). They undeniably had an impact on Confederate troops, who had a very healthy fear of them. Despite their power, their era passed quickly, and gave rise to the modern warship.

The drydocked USS Lexington, with deck guns and the bridge in the background.

 

Respect Across Battle Lines

Sergeant Robert Burl Titus of Company A, one of the few native Texans to serve in the 16th Texas Cavalry, once had an interesting story to tell.  Twenty four years after the battle of Mansfield, the following story by Sergeant Titus appeared in several newspapers.

Daring a Regiment

———————–

The battle of Mansfield, La., was fought April 8th, 1864, General Banks in command on the Federal side, and General Kirby Smith on our side.  Our regiment, the Sixteenth Texas, dismounted cavalry, was held in reserve for reinforcement.  As well as I remember, it was placed to the right of the main battle, and to the enemy’s left.  While there in line of battle, expecting orders every few minutes, listening to the heavy roar of cannonading, and the terrific peals of musketry, and more especially noticing the retreating steps of the Federals in the same direction as they came the day before, off to our right and down the line of our regiment a single rifle shot was heard- an accidental shot from one of our own men.  I imagine the report of this shot drew the attention of the soldier in blue in question to the scene of action. In a short time after the report of the rifle we observed two mounted me dressed in blue skirting near the foot of a hill near a fence on the opposite side from us.  They discovered us about the same time we did them.  They made a sudden halt.  One of them dismounted, left his horse with his comrade and walked up toward us, crossed the fence, and walked up within two or three hundred yards of our line and made a leisurely halt.  The gun that was strapped to his shoulder  was brought into immediate position for use.  He stood perfectly calm and erect, seemingly measuring the distance with his eye, brought his gun to his shoulder with great calmness, taking deliberate aim, and fired.  We stood each man in line, watching the actions of a Federal who could display such nerve – one single man to face a regiment of rebels.  We watched anxiously the result of his fire.  We did not exactly see the bullet of his gun bite the dust a few feet in our front, but we saw the dust fog up where it hit.  He then stood erect in the same position as when he shot, his face front, waiting to receive our fire.  (We were upon a ridge above him.)  Several of our boys called for permission to return his salute.  Some eight or ten of us walked out in front of our line, took aim, and fired.  But how could we dare, under the existing circumstances, aim a bullet at a single brave man like that.  My bullet, for one, sped far above his head.  When the smoke cleared away from our fire we saw him walking leisurely away in the same direction from which he came, and remounting his horse, away they went.  This is the last I ever saw of him.  Later on in the evening we were engaged in the battle.  Our last firing was at the Zouaves, and we slept on our guns that night, and were off to the battle of Pleasant Hill the next day.  If these few lines should meet the notice of the man in blue on that occasion, we would be glad to hear from him.  R. B. Titus

In addition to giving information as to the location and movements of the 16th Texas Cavalry during the battle of Mansfield, it shows that individual acts of bravery or daring could and did cross battle lines, and inspire admiration in what could have been a quite deadly enemy.  The reputation of Walker’s Texans as a fighting force is testament enough to the danger the Federal placed himself in, had he not earned the goodwill of Fitzhugh’s boys.

Robert Burl Titus was married twice, once before the war, and once after, and had at least five children.  At the time of his death, it is not known if Sergeant Titus had ever heard from the brave man in blue, or even of the unnamed soldier had survived the sound thrashing that General Banks’ army received that day.  Robert Titus did, and lived until 1901, when he passed in White Rock, Hunt County, Texas.  Today, his body lies in Webb Hill Cemetery in nearby Wolfe City.

Sergeant R. B. Titus’ tombstone in Webb-Hill cemetery, Wolfe City, Texas

Connections in the Lee-Peaock Feud

On August 19, 1863, Colonel William Fitzhugh of the 16th Texas Cavalry, on detached service in Texas as a recruiter, sent a report to Assistant Adjutant General E. P. Turner regarding his progress as a recruiter.  Among the difficulties he encountered was a band of about 30 men, deserters, who had holed up in a thicket, from which they could not be removed, except by force.  According to Fitzhugh, the men declared that they would die before being retaken.  As it turned out, their numbers were far larger.  So large in fact, that nearly 500 of them were formed into an irregular battalion several months later, known as the Brush Battalion.  Among them was a former soldier from Fitzhugh’s own ranks, 17 year-old Alexander Boren, whose brother, Isham, had been killed at Milliken’s Bend in June. Alexander had been discharged from Confederate service after the Battle of Cotton Plant for being under age.

Captain Bob Lee

After the war ended, it again erupted in miniature in northeast Texas, in what has become known as the Lee-Peacock Feud.  The Boren family took part in this conflict, and Alexander, though not a direct participant, was nonetheless severely affected.  In 1868, after much bloodshed, Captain Bob Lee, leader of the Confederate Faction, decided to head to Mexico to lay low.  Unfortunately for him, he was betrayed by Alexander’s uncle, Henry Boren.  Lee had a hiding place in the same thicket where Alexander had hidden after his desertion.  Henry Boren revealed its location to Federal troops, who shot and killed Lee as he rode out.

The next morning, Henry was called onto his front porch by Jack Herrington, a nephew by

Alexander Boren later in life. Note the cane in his right hand, and the clearly visible prosthetic on his lower left leg.

marriage.  Herrington shot and killed Henry Boren, and then fled.  As he escaped across a nearby field, he ran into Alexander Boren, whom he shot in the leg.  These events caused an internal feud among the Boren family, especially after Jack Herrington was hunted down and killed by them.  Alexander’s wound never properly healed, and caused his leg to be amputated.  The Boren family had been split, both by the war and the feud, as some sided with the Confederacy, and some with the Union.Others of the 16th Texas Cavalry affected by the feud included Colonel William Fitzhugh.  On March 28, 1869, a thirty-man Union-led posse arrived at Fitzhugh’s home near Melissa, in Collin County at midnight.  They were in search of three of the late Bob Lee’s men, Dow Witt, Bill Penn, and a third man by the name of Hayes.  Not finding their quarry, they moved on, finding and killing Witt at a nearby farm.  The next day, a second posse returned to Fitzhugh’s home, where the remaining two fugitives were located.  A gun battle ensued, though neither Penn nor Hayes were taken.

A third veteran of the 16th Texas Cavalry, John Baldock, sided with the Unionists.  Baldock was part of a meeting held at the Nance farm in May of 1868.  Bob Lee, hearing of this meeting in progress, quickly gathered a posse and set on the gatherers.  One of the Nance men was killed, as was John Baldock.  Baldock’s remains lie in Mt. Carmel Cemetery in Collin County.  An account of his death can be found in the book “Murder at the Corners,” by Gladys Ray.  The feud lasted until 1871, when the Union leader, Lewis Peacock, was gunned down by Lee’s former followers, Joe Parker and Dick Johnson.  Its effects were far more lasting.  Alexander Boren, having moved to Ringgold, Texas, lived until 1939, walking with a cane, and a false leg.

Editor’s Note: When otiginally posted on http://www.scotknight.org, this post indicated that Alexander Boren was a deserter. Subsequent research has proven this to be false. Apologies are offered by page author Isaiah Tadlock for any offense caused to the Boren family and their descendants.