Search for old grave leads to mosquito hawks and black snake

Several weeks ago, someone mailed me a 23-page document that detailed the final resting places of over 230 Wilcox County Confederate veterans, the vast majority of which are buried in cemeteries throughout the county. I was scanning through this list on Saturday morning, and one name jumped off the page at me: Samuel Benjamin Woodson, who was born around 1830 and died in 1867.

According to this source, Woodson served with the Alabama River Rangers, 13^th Alabama Infantry, and is said to be the only Confederate veteran buried in the McIntosh Cemetery in Camden. I knew that this cemetery was one of the most historic cemeteries in all of Wilcox County, but I couldn’t honestly say that I’d ever been there in person. With that in mind, I set off after lunch on Saturday with an eye toward seeing Woodson’s grave for myself.

Around two o’clock, I turned off Claiborne Street and onto the dead-end dirt road that leads into the cemetery. I parked near the entrance and stepped out. Despite over three more weeks of winter, it was unseasonably warm. I checked the weather app on my phone, which said that it was 77 degrees.

I struck out on foot and walked the entire length of this large cemetery, looking for Woodson’s grave. While I found many World War I, World War II and Vietnam veteran graves, I found no sign of Woodson’s final resting place. Eventually, I reached the wire fence at the southernmost end of the graveyard and stopped for a short rest at the top of this small hill.

For a change, I was all alone, and I stood there for several minutes, not far from where someone had erected a hunting stand that overlooked a large clear cut. In the distance, I could see Camden’s sewage lagoon and heard motors from the treatment machinery. Aside from that, it was eerily quiet.

About half way back to my truck, I noticed a number of graves in the wood line and considered the possibility that Woodson’s grave could be among their number. Most veteran headstones have a distinctive look, and I saw one that looked like a prime candidate. I couldn’t make out the name on the headstone, so I stepped deeper into the bushes for a closer look.

The brush was thick and when I stuck my arm in to move some vines aside, a mosquito hawk flew up into my face and I heard a rustling in the leaves at my feet. I looked down in time to see a black snake as long as my arm slithering away, just inches from my right boot. In all honesty, I do not remember exactly what I said in that moment, as I extracted myself rapidly from the bushes, but I’m glad my mother wasn’t there to hear it.

As it turned out, that grave actually belonged to a Pvt. Charlie Hill, and despite a thorough search, I never found Woodson’s grave. Many graves in this cemetery are unmarked and many are hidden by underbrush or lie outside the apparent bounds of the graveyard. In the end, if anyone knows the exact location of Woodson’s grave, please let me hear from you, and, if you decide to look for it yourself, be sure to keep your eyes peeled for snakes.