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| George Buster Singleton |
During the last few days, the weather was ideal for a day of wandering and looking over the countryside.
Slipping away from the honey-do list that my dear wife had left me, I mounted my motorcycle and headed into the hill country in the northeastern part of the county.
For reasons I cannot explain, I found myself thinking about a place that I had not visited for quite some time. So I headed up into the area near the Monroe and Wilcox county line.
Reaching my destination, the thought came to me that it had been almost 136 years since the dreaded Civil War had come to an end.
Looking down at the faded Confederate tombstone that stood in the tall grass and weeds before me, I knew that much of the hate and distrust of this time in our country’s history continued to exist, even to this day.
After all these years, we continue to find things to keep the fires of distrust burning. If we cannot find something from the past to build an argument about, we invent or create something.
But let us digress from the winds of evil and return to this forgotten place for a moment of speculation and thought. Kneeling beside this lonely tomb, and with much effort, I read the faded inscription found there.
Rising again to my feet, the faded words raced through my mind like a strong, blowing wind. Trying to visualize in my mind why this marker was there, I remembered the words there on the faded slab of marble: the carved letters, “CSA” (Confederate States of America) and just below the word, “Unknown.”
Here, the thought enters my mind as to the name of this unknown Rebel. Then, I began to wonder just why this forgotten grave was way out here away from a cemetery or an old home place.
As I have done many times before, I began to look around for some evidence of an old home place or a small burial ground. There was none. This causes the mystery once again to deepen.
Could this soldier have been trying to make his way back to his home, perhaps suffering from some type of serious wound that he received on some faraway battlefield? Was he trying to return to a home and family that he hadn’t seen for three or four years, perhaps, longing to see his children and wife that he had left behind when he went off to war? Did death overtake him along a lonely path here, under the tall pines before he reached his destination?
Did he travel alone, or did he travel with someone who later returned and placed the marker over his final resting place? Was his name ever known, or had it been forgotten? As he made his way homeward, sick and wounded, did he fall prey to some of his hated enemies who struck the final blow that ended for all time the pain and suffering that racked his body?
Perhaps, the few who know the location of this lonely tomb of this Confederate soldier will never know the truth. I, myself, will return from time to time for a moment of silence and perhaps to pick a wild honeysuckle or a blossom from a beautiful mountain laurel and place it on the grave in remembrance of a time long past and the unknown Rebel who sleeps here – a soldier who thought he was doing the right thing that day when he kissed his loved ones goodbye and answered the call of the Confederacy.
Standing here under the tall pines that guard the final resting place of this unknown Rebel, I wonder what thoughts might have passed through this unknown soldier’s mind the last minutes of his life. Did he have any last words? Did he send a last message to his loved ones? How far was he from the ones he loved when the hand of death touched his brow?
There are no answers to these questions. There is no need to make known the location of this final resting place of this fallen warrior. Only the few who know this location can share in the agony of his passing.
These few who know will return from time to time to reassure him that he is remembered and will not be forgotten. The wild honeysuckle or the blooms of the beautiful mountain laurel will give evidence of those who remember and care.
The tall pines will stand guard over this unknown grave and protect this special place from the snows of the winters and the heat of the summers until the bugle is sounded for that final roll call.
Yon marble minstrel’s voiceless stone
In deathless song shall tell.
When many a vanquished year hath flown,
The story of how you fell.
Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter’s blight,
Nor time’s remorseless doom,
Can dim one ray of holy light
That gilds your glorious tomb.
(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)
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