A gentleman on the Single Action Shooting Society forum posted this there. He gave me permission to post it here.
I watched the new movie called True Grit and for some reason it reminded Me of many years ago of an old man I once knew. I think some of You may enjoy what I can recall when He was still alive and I was a very young man at the time. This may take a while to tell, But I want to write it the way it took place, So here goes.
I was born in 1941 and as soon as I was old enought to go out, My grandfather would take me with him when he went to visit with his older friends during the day in Kerrville, Texas. Back then before the days of tv and air conditioners in good weather people spend more time outdoors. Here is how it was, He would take me with him and in those days the old men would sit under the oak and misquite trees at the Kerr Country court house square and pass time talking and telling about their life. Or sometimes he would sit outside my moms store up near the railroad tracks and he and a number of othe rold men would visit. Sometimes the old steam engines would be working half a block a way. And somw times He would go down by the River to an old saloon and sit and visit with other oldtimers and play cards and I would sit and listen as they talked.
It was under a large misquite tree by the railyard that I met an old man that everone called Reb. I can still see the old man as he used to come walking down the dirt street using a walking stick and how he would always reach out and shake everones hand when he sit down on the wood bench at the table with the other old timers. I would sit and listen as they talked about when they were young men and I was still young but I will never forget those old gentlemen. I didnot know it it the time but I was witness to stories of first hand accounts of their life.
I found out old man Reb had been a drummer boy in the civil war at the age of 12 and over a period time he would talk about his life and experences and what he told me I will share. He said His two brothers had left home in Virginia to join with the Confedercy and He followed them. Once they joined the commander told him go go back home to this family but he insisted they let him stay. He said after chasing him off three times the commander finnaly said well if You want to die for the South then I will let you be a drummer boy. He said the day he out on the little grey suit and was given a set of drums was the happyest day of his life. He said some photografer took a pic of him with his uniform on and his drum showing his bare feet and all. Old Reb said in a few days the older boys had him beating the drum and he was ready to go.
I listen as the old man started to tell me about the first time he saw action. He said he was up front with another young man carrying the rebel flag next to him and the major was on a horse on the other side of him. He said he had no fear because everone was wanting to fight as they walked for miles and crossed several creeks and rivers on a warm day and when they came up to a hill, The major stopped and told the men that the north was just over the next hill and that he knew they could whip them and that the eyes of the south was apon them. Then he said they topped the hill and it looked like a million blue coats were in front of them. He said he and the other drummers started to play dixie and then the march beat as they got closer. The old man would phuse for a while then tell me a little at a time about how the first time in his life he saw the ground rise and fall as canon fire started to fall and then the bullets starting to come. He said the sound of fire was so loud it drowned out the screams of men dieing and as they become closer he could see the union mens faces and how everthing begain to move in slow motion. He recalled He thought it had started to rain as water started to hit his face and looking at his shirt he was it was blood. He said on his young friends next to him was looking at him when he saw the top of his head fly off and brains hit him on the side of his face. I ask him if he was scared and he reached over and placed his hand on my arm and said "Yes I was but I had no place to run and the other young drummers next to me were beating their drumbs when the flag boy went down another man picked up the flag and the smell of gunproder was so strong and the smoke was so thick you could not see far but you could hear the men scream as they were hit and when the north turned to run back I almost fell and looking down I realized I was standing and a blue coat that was torn open and bones were sticking out. He said when the fighting was over for that day, He was covered with blood and smoke from the guns. The old man said it was the worst day of his life as he sit on a fallen tree and looked around to see dead and dying men everwhere. He said when he walked back towards the camp where it first started he was the major laying on his back with his saber in his hand and a Colts in the other with the side of his head missing and a few more feet away was the drum of his young friend and a few more feet he found him dead too. Reb said that night he was so sick at his belly he thought he was going to die. He said after a couple of hours, A new major told everone to get up and get ready because at daylight it was going to start again. The old man told me it was like a huge nightmare.
As with old men, One day part of a story would be told followed by more a few days later. He told me over and over about what it was like and how he never expected to go back home to his mother and family. Some days he would just sit and listen as the othe rold men talked and then I think he would remember things he wanted to tell me and he would. I never grew tired of his stories.
I remember on day that I shall never forget and I only wisk I could have had a way to record it. I had ask Reb is he still had his drum and he said oh no son I lost it many years ago, But I do have a drum I used to play at the old timers reunion years ago back home in Vaginia. I was sitting with grandfather a few days later when I looked down the street to see old Man Reb coming our way with a drum in his hands. I moved over to let him sit down next to me and he started to tell me about the drum, He said it was a lot like the one he carried in the war except the one he had in the war had a rebel flag painted on the skin. I asked if he could show me how to play the drum and he said he would try. He showed me a few things and I tried to play some but it sounded a lot different then him.
What happen next to this day sends chills up my back and I would give my last cent to have a recording of it. I sit as the old man stood up and looking down at my face he said it was kind of like this son. He old man stood, Looking up and with the sticks in his hands he started to play the rebel marching song and I heard first hand what it was like from a man who played it so many years ago. The old man looked down at me and said this song means this and this one means that as he played his drum and he stopped and stood looking up at the shy and slowly started to play Dixie and as I looked at his old weathered hands holding the sticks as he played I happen to look up at his face to see tears streaming down his face as if he was in another world. It sent chills up my back then and it still does today as I remember. I was listing to a Civil war drummer who had been there and lived it share the same sound that his fellow Sons of the South had heard so many years ago. I dont know what happen in his mind at the time but as soon as he finished the song Dixie, Old Reb sit the durm down and with his shirt sleeve wiped his eys and told us he would see us later as he took the drum and walked back down the street towards his house. I had witnessed history that day.
A few months later he would share other stories with me and then one day as my grandfather and joined the four other old men one afternoon under the tree they informed us that Reb had passed the night before. I wanted to share his stories with You and I think the time was 1947 or 49.
Your Pard. Texas Man
And then today
Thanks for Your replys and Yes Subdeacon Joe You may.
I am thankful that I was born when I was while a few of the real Old Tmers were still around and that My Grandfather took Me with Him back then. As I said, Back then we had no tv or airconditioning and the old men would meet up at several different places and sit and talk play cards sometimes and I would listen as they talked about their lives so many years ago.
I only wish at the time that I would have had some way to record them and get a few pictures as well. The story about Old Man Reb was one I will never forget as a young man sitting next to him as he told about his early life and the first hand account of what it was like to fight for the South so many yeas ago. I have many times thought about that one day when he played on his drum for me and I watched his hands and his face as he played and I realized in later years that I had a once in a lifetime listened to a man who was there and fought for his beloved South that I heard the same tunes that his fellow men had hear so many years ago played by the same man that was in the heat of battle at the head of the Southern Confedercy Army.
In later years, I recall watching his hands and face as He played his drums that day and as He looked up towarms the sky and tears started to stream down his face I can only beleave that for a short time He was once again back in 1862 marching at the head of the Southern Army facing certian death for so many brave men around him. AND I was hearing the same beat of drums that the men had heard that day played by the same man. I never think about this that I dont get a strange feeling inside Me. Few men alive today can hold a old civil war gun in their hands and hear the sound that was played at the same time. mThank God I can.
Sometimes, I have something that gets Me to thinking about those Old Men and a subject will come to mind and most of the time I have to think about it for several days to try to remember it all or the best I can anyway and besides I am going back a long time Myself to the late 1940s thur the early 1950s when My Grandfather passed away. I know I am not a writer nor am I a good speller nor do I claim to be, But I had the chance to be there when the old men shared their interesting stories with me in person and I feel that there may be a few today who may get something out of them and that is why I tell them. Sometimes I think may the old men got me interesting in adventure and the want to find action later in my life and South Texas and Old Mexico was close at hand.
Your Pard, Texas Man
I posted the text in its entirety, not making any corrections for spelling.
