Waving The Flag

originally published June 28, 2006

My friend Redwine says residents of Middle Georgia complained that Joe Wheeler’s Confederate cavalry were harder on the countryside than the Yankee army of General Sherman they opposed. That piece of historical intelligence tickles Redwine because he knows my (great) Grandpa McCommons rode with Wheeler’s Cavalry.

Now, even alternative newspaper editors feel called to write a patriotic column for the Fourth of July, but patriotism is inextricably bound up with militarism - “the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air.” With the exceptions of my Uncle Tom McGibony, who was a Major General in the Army Medical Corps (and his sons Tommy and Charlie who followed in his Army footsteps), and my Cousin Deeda McCommons, who fought across Europe, we don’t have much of a military tradition. Like Dick Cheney and most other Bush high Republican officials, I did not serve my country in the military.

Considering those who are serving us right now in Iraq and Afghanistan, I’ve got to keep my mouth shut or turn once again to the puzzle of Grandpa.

James Henry McCommons was 17 when he joined the Confederate cavalry and was stationed down on the Georgia coast - guarding against Yankee incursions (about a century too early). He was 20 when he was paroled in North Carolina at the end of the war. He was a private in Company A of the 5th Georgia Cavalry, which was eventually assigned to General Wheeler in time for the Battle of Atlanta (another failed attempt at keeping out the Yankees).

Toward the end of his life, Grandpa told Uncle Tom about fighting in the Battle of Gettysburg and about the long retreat afterward in the driving rain, with the wounded moaning in the wagons. And it is true that at the age of 93, Grandpa traveled by train to Gettysburg for the 75th reunion of the battle veterans.

Still, with my very limited ability to Google history, I see no way to claim Grandpa as a veteran of Wheeler’s Cavalry and the Battle of Gettysburg. Wheeler was at Atlanta, but he wasn’t at Gettysburg. Is there any way Grandpa could have fought in both battles, making me a double patriot? I don’t think so, but every now and then I look for a loophole.

On one such occasion, I went over to the state archives building, where they’ve got the Confederate records on microfilm. I actually found a few entries for Grandpa while he was down on the coast: present for drill, reprimanded for losing some ammunition, and then, with Redwine looking over my shoulder: Absent Without Leave - end of the record. Redwine gave me the horselaugh for that one, and it brought my genealogical pursuit to a halt.

Now, it’s true that Grandpa came back home, just turned 20, to marry 18-year-old Mary Helen Geer on Nov. 3, 1864. I no longer have my notes from the archives, but I have assumed he went AWOL to get married. This was after the Battle of Atlanta and during the period when Gen. Wheeler’s troops were harassing Sherman (and, apparently, the Georgia countryside), so Grandpa didn’t have that far to ride to come home for his wedding. It’s entirely possible that he could have been given leave for that purpose and could have rejoined Wheeler in time for the only pitched battle on Sherman’s march, the Battle of Griswoldville on Nov. 22 - when the old men and young boys of the Georgia militia disastrously charged seasoned Yankee troops. Whenever and however he got back, Grandpa did rejoin the Confederates, since he is recorded as being present at the end of the war the next spring.

When I was growing up, Grandpa, who died the year I was born, was a legend in the family. The war was the high point of his life. He couldn’t make a go of farming and eventually applied for a Confederate pension as a pauper. He loved to be where the people were. He enjoyed sitting around on a bench in the middle of town, talking with cronies and passersby. His grandsons had to sneak off if they wanted to avoid taking him with them to University of Georgia football games. Grandpa enjoyed taking a drink, and he enjoyed the ladies, always keeping himself carefully attired for any opportunity that might turn up.

Knowing what I do know about Grandpa and what I do not know, I have devised a theory that enhances my own patriotic background.

I believe that high-spirited young James Henry McCommons was bored by the routine of hanging around the coastal swamps waiting for Yankees while the real action was in Virginia. I believe he went AWOL from the coast and came back up this way, perhaps hooking up with Cobb’s Legion or Phillip’s Legion, local units with cavalry that were fighting in Virginia and were in the Battle of Gettysburg. I believe that Grandpa was in that battle in July, 1863 and did not lie to Uncle Tom about it.

The Battle of Atlanta was a year later. My theory holds that as the war moved toward Georgia, so did Grandpa, traveling with the troops that came south for the Battle of Chickamauga, in September, 1863. His old unit was there, too, now part of Wheeler’s Cavalry. Perhaps that’s where he got back together with them, fighting on through Atlanta and the rest of the war.

Journalism has been called the first, rough draft of history; so let it be with Grandpa. I’ll keep on trying to fill in the blanks. Meanwhile, he’s my ticket for waving the flag, even if it’s the wrong one.

Pete McCommons, Editor & Publisher editor@flagpole.com

Pete McCommons, Editor & Publisher

editor@flagpole.com