enough food for themselves plus a little extra during the better farming years. In addition, many pioneers were first and second generations of Scotch-Irish folk possessing the ideas and values of their parents and grandparents who had struggled to get to America in order to seek a better life and, in some cases, just to survive.
These immigrants were from economic conditions not much better than those who were in slavery in the United States. In Scotland and Ireland, they had been poor tenants who were paying rent for land that barely provided a living. If the land did not produce, they still would owe the landlord his required sum. Many were then pushed off their land and in some cases were imprisoned for debts to their landlords. They knew about poverty and oppression and upon coming to America, many were sympathetic toward the plight of the Southern slave.
Even though these immigrants had been free to go as they pleased in the old country, in America they were not much better off than the Southern Negroes. Hillcountry people, who held little regard for the plantation system and what it represented, nevertheless found themselves entangled in the conflict that divided this nation, destroyed thousands of promising young lives, and turned family against family.
When the Civil War finally came to an end, the economy of the South had been destroyed along with its armies. Even though the hillcountry itself did not show the destruction that many areas of the war-torn South displayed, the destruction could be found in every family and in individual lives. In some cases physical injuries handicapped the Southern soldiers when they returned home, and all faced crushed dreams and a lack of hope that would plague them for the remainder of their lives.
Although many of these hillcountry warriors only fought to preserve their states' rights, and not for the institution of slavery, when the bloody conflict ended, they bore the same yoke of oppression as the slaveholders who fought to keep slavery legal in the South.
This is their story.
—Johnny Neil Smith
Monticello, Georgia
PROLOGUE
Mississippi seceded from the union on January 9, 1861. Young men all over the state began to gather in specified areas to form military units and prepare for a war that not all were sure would ever occur. It was with this feeling that Lott Wilson allowed his two oldest sons, James Earl and Thomas, to enlist in the first military company that Newton County organized. It was assembled in Decatur, a small town in east central Mississippi about eight and one half miles southwest of Little Rock where the Wilson farm lay. They called themselves the Newton Rifles.
Lott knew its commanding officer, Montgomery Carleton, very well and felt his boys would be in good hands if any fighting did occur. Lott also sensed that when the United States Government saw that the South was willing to fight for its states' rights, the politicians in the North would then probably sit down and peacefully resolve their differences. War was about as likely as a snowstorm on the Fourth of July, Lott thought.
But that didn’t change the fact that while James Earl and Thomas were away playing war, their father was hard pressed to get everything done on the farm, especially since it was planting season. The boys had only enlisted for six months so Lott had determined to get by as well as he could until they returned. The demanding work now fell in the hands of John, his youngest son, and himself. Lott knew the work done by four would now have to be done by a boy and a worn-out old man. He prayed this excitement about a possible war would soon be over.
But hope fell on April 12, 1861, when Pierre G. T. Beauregard and his troops fired on Fort Sumter, out in the Charleston harbor, one of the four Federal forts flying the Union flag in Confederate territory. After that, the war escalated with each passing month and James Earl and Thomas were caught in the conflict. Their six month enlistment became an indefinite commitment.
SPRING PLANTING 1862
The spring of l862 was late in coming. The older Folk who had seen many come and go said this delay meant a season of unusual beauty. Across the woodlands, at first glance it seemed that a young snow lightly covered the ground. But closer examination revealed that what appeared to be snow was nothing but multitudes of dogwood trees in full bloom. Many of the hardwood trees were still dormant, so these white blossoms dominated the forestlands.
Among the dogwood trees were purple blossoms of native redbud trees dotting the landscape. In the open meadows where deer had once fed in abundance and where no plow had yet disturbed the earth, thousands of wildflowers displayed their colors.
Back in the quiet farmhouse, the pre-dawn breeze gently pushed John’s bedroom curtain back and forth while outside the rays of daylight were just illuminating the sky. Down through the hollow came a chorus of music from the whippoorwill. Occasionally the plaintive call of these lonely sounding birds would be interrupted by a screech owl somewhere near the creek bottom. Everything was peaceful, but Old Preacher Jack, the king rooster of the barnyard, began to let everyone within a good country mile know of his presence with one of the loudest voices God had ever given a creature. Jack could give ole Satan himself a headache.
But worst still was a sound John Wilson hated to hear. “John... John Wilson...Son...it’s time to get up. Yore paw’s already gone to the barn. You got work to do and ole man sun’ll be up ‘fore long.”
John couldn’t believe it was time to start another day’s work. It seemed only a minute ago he had put his head on his pillow to sleep.
“Mom, you sure this ain’t Sunday and I’m just havin’ a bad dream?”
John said jokingly. Being a religious family, the Wilsons never worked on Sunday. John settled deeper under the cover and before long was sound asleep.
This time, a more aggressive and mocking sound woke him. "John... John Willy...it’s time to get yore lazy butt out of bed. Yore good friends who you loves and resembles is a waitin’ for ya. I’m talkin’ ‘bout Zek and Abner, the mules, you know...jackasses as Professor Hendon calls them.”
“Sister, how dare you talk to yore brother like that. He’s worked hard since the boys been gone,” scolded Sarah.
Lucretia, called Sister, was the only daughter and the youngest child in the family and her parents had overprotected her. The boys felt she was a little spoiled.
Before the feud with the North began, Lucretia seemed to always be getting her way around the house. Now, that the South needed men, some of the young girls, like Sister, seemed to become less important. The Wilson boys were enjoying their moment of triumph.
John slowly dressed and made his way across the open hall to the kitchen at the back of the house. There he found a breakfast of bacon and eggs with the best biscuits in Little Rock.
He finally finished and as he rose to leave the table, Mrs. Wilson also rose as if by habit, "John, let me look at ya boy. I want to see what kind of young man you is growin’ up to be.”
“Maw, why do I go through this inspection might near every day? You can see I’m still a growin’ and I wash my face and comb my hair every morning. This is embarrassin’,” John stated in frustration.
“Stand tall young man,” Sarah commanded.
“Yes Ma’am, I’m a-standin’ tall.”
And so he was. John would not turn seventeen until October, but he was already over six feet with a slim, but muscular build. The hard work on the
