Singleton tells of visit to grave of unknown soldier in Monroe County

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Yuletide walk inexplicably leads to grave” was originally published in the Dec. 26, 1991 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Wednesday, Dec. 18, 1991 was a beautiful day. The east wind carried with it a touch of chill, but this is to be expected during this time of year when old man winter has appeared on the scene.

The ground was covered with a heavy blanket of fallen leaves and pine straw from the surrounding trees as I made my way down the faint trail in the northeast part of our county.

I had to look closely for the narrow pathway that I knew would eventually lead me to the final resting place of the unknown Confederate soldier.

I know that Christmas time should be a time for joyous togetherness and lots of good times, but for the past few days, the thoughts of returning to this forgotten place had been foremost in my thoughts.

Don’t ask me why I knew that I must return here and stand for a moment in silence beside this Confederate tomb. But I knew that I must come, if only for a moment, and now that I had, I knew that I had made the right decision.

As always on my past visits here, the Confederate marker leaned at a crazy angle as though someone had tried without success to push it over. And, as always, I straightened the marker and packed the dirt around it with my shoe heel so that once again the marker stood almost up straight as I had left it on my last visit.

The blanket of brown leaves and pine straw over the grave gave it a feeling of softness as though some unknown hand had placed them there for a purpose. And the east wind in the pine and sweet gum trees whispered a soft lullaby as the quietness around seemed to say that the sleep of this unknown warrior would not be disturbed.

Off to my left, a group of crows sat silently in the top of a huge oak tree as though they were there for the purpose of keeping vigil over the unknown soldier who slept there.

And high above, almost out of sight, a huge hawk circled, watching as if on sentry duty for those in the treetop. It seemed so strange that the crows would keep silent when the huge hawk continued to circle overhead, but all was quiet.

As I stood and listened and felt the total silence around me, I thought again why I had come this way, only a few days before Christmas. Why had it seemed so important for me to come here? Was it around Christmas time when this unknown rebel soldier departed this life along this deserted trail? Was a spirit from the almost forgotten past trying to contact the world of the living and let it be known what happened before many years ago? I knew that I did not know the answer; I could only guess.

As I stood and absorbed the silence around me, the quietness was broken by the sound of footsteps. I turned, expecting to see a hunter or someone who had lost their way.

As I turned, my eyes fell upon a large deer. The large deer was walking very slowly, as one might try to tiptoe across the fallen leaves, trying not to disturb the sleep of the rebel. The large deer made no effort to hurry away as one might think it would do when it spotted me standing there beside the Confederate marker. Slowly it continued to walk very slowly into the deep underbrush where it disappeared from sight. The silence settled around the area again as though nothing had happened.

As I stood there beside the faded marker, I found myself wishing I had brought some Christmas flowers or something with color that might hint of the Yuletide spirit. Then, I decided I was glad that I had not, that perhaps placing something of this nature at the marker would only draw attention, where otherwise the marker would be passed by unnoticed. Strange, that a feeling of jealousness would come over me at this time – not wanting to share this place with others, perhaps fearing that some harm might come this way.

Looking around, I spotted a faded wild fern that had suffered from the cold bite of Jack Frost during the past chilly mornings. I reached down and placed the wild fern against the faded Confederate marker. It wasn’t much, but somehow the spirit of the unknown soldier buried there would know that I remembered.

I became aware of the unrest of the crows in the large oak tree nearby. I watched as each crow pitched from its tree limb, as though trying to maintain the stillness that abounded there. As each in turn glided across the open space above the faded marker, they disappeared without a sound into the deep woods beyond. As I looked skyward, I saw that the large hawk that had been sailing high overhead had faded too from the evening skies.

I realized that the time was at hand, that I, too, must depart this place. The evening sun had dropped almost unnoticed from the graying skies, and the shadows of the twilight hours had slowly begun to creep to the edge of the small clearing and the Confederate marker.

As I turned for one last look, I was glad that I had come. Walking back up the trail, I felt better. A crow called from the distance, then another, and another. Looking back toward the faded Confederate marker, the shadows of the coming darkness had settled around it as if a giant protective blanket had been spread over it for the coming night.

(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.)