Oxford eagle., 1912-07-18
STRASGEST STORY OF The WAR.

Judge John Martin has beer
for nearly generation a magi-
strate Of the city of West Point
Miss, and, though a layman, hi:
friends have by courtesy giver
him the title of judge out of re-
spect for the long and honorable
occupancy of the office. The
chief pride Of his life is tnat he
and three of his brothers were
brave, Confederate soldiers. He
imparts a literary flavor to the
incidents Of the great conflict in
in which he participated and
which ne is so fond of relating.
As his veracity and historical
accuracy cannot be questioned,
| repeat the most wonderful story
of the war almost as it came from
his lips touching the death and
burial of George and William
Benson. This is the story:
MY regiment was the Fortieth
Mississippi. We were on the re-
treat from Resaca to Atlanta,
and we had been fighting, or
rather skirmishing, for several
months almost daily. On the
night preceding the 14,h. OF
June, 1864, near Pine Mountain,
Ca, my regiment was ordered to
take the place of u West Virginia
regiment that it was reported had
gone over to the Federals.
I'VE arrived on the ground
and took position late at night,
and my company-D-was or-
dered or picket, in fact, the most
Of my regiment was out on picket
duty. | and a comrade, George
Benson, were detailed to 60 in
front of the pickets on the videt
line as advance pickets; the
videts We're placed fifty to seven
ty-five yards apart and for their
protection pits ten or twelve feet
long and about three feet wide
were dug. In front of the pits
stakes were driven in the ground,
rails piled against the stakes aad
the dirt out of the pits piled up
over the rails, for the protection
Of the pickets. In our front was
a field that sloped both north and
south to small branch, border
ed on the margins with willows.
Behind these willows were post
ed the pickets of the Federal
lines, and the main line OF the
Federals was just in the margin
Of the little field and in sight of
US, quarter of a mile away. In
our rear was a pasture with scat
tering trees, and at the left OF
our little videt pit was 4 post oak
tree that had been burned per-
haps two or three years before.
but the dead limbs were still thick
on it. Our sharpshooters had
climed into the trees in our rear.
my comrade. George Benson,
and myself occupied alone the
little pit assigned 10 us until day
light the next morning, when we
cautiously crawled out and sur
yeyed the surroundings. Ben
son had just arrived from off
furlough and had missed a good
deal of the hard service, but had
returned in time, poor fellow, to
lose MS life. When George Ben
son looked around, he said to me
4 know this place; | was born
just over yonder where you see
that little house, near which the
white horse is grazing in front of
his masters tent, no doubt
Federal officers. My mother
and father lie in their graves not
more than 100 yards from here;
they Doth died within two weeks
Of each other.
Myself and brotht r, Willilm,
were left orphans: my isther died
last and our home went to pay
debts and we were penniless. |
was 10 and my brother s years
old. The courts had US bound
out, my brother 10 an Illinois
horse trader who was travelling
through the country, and to an
Iold shoemaker who was given to
drunken sprees. The horse trad
er took my brother north with
him, | have never seen hin since.
| have had letters from him oc-
casionally, and learned that he
grew up with his foster-father in
the state of Illinois, and is now
well-to-do, having married his
only child.
"'But as for me, said George,
1 was not 50 lucky. The old
shoemaker was always coming
home drunk and beating me and
his wife for nothing, and kept US
constantly afraid Of him stay
ed with him for two years, and in
that whole time was not clear
of the stripes he inflicted upon
me On one occasion when he
came home drunk, he thrust his
wife's head into q wash pot and
was about TO drown her, and |
came to the relief of the old lady,
for she was n good, patient,
Christian woman. While | was
trying to help my foster-mother,
for called her mother, he struck
me with billet OF wood and
knocked me senseless. When |
came to the old lady was bathing
my head with camphor, and the
lold shoemaker was dead asleep
on the bed.
"'My foster-mother at once
told me that she loved me devot-
edly, but that she could not suf-
fer for me to be treated that way