by Helen D. Chandler | |
In Their Own Words The Gastonia Daily Gazette Monday afternoon July 23, 1928 Colonel Robert Newton Wilson By Helen D. Chandler Colonel Robert Newton Wilson, in many respects one of the most unusual men in the Piedmont Carolinas, will celebrate his 90th birthday on Sunday, July 29 at his home in Gaston County, a few miles out from Gastonia. A Confederate veteran— one of the very few left of the 1,500 who went to war from Gaston County—Col. Newt is one of the rapidly diminishing number who remember Lee, Lincoln, Stonewall Jackson, Jefferson Davis, and others of that period whose names are engraved on the pages of American history. A Southerner of the old style, Col. Wilson is a Democrat and can vote no other ticket. The characteristic of Col. Newt which has made him famous in his native county and throughout Piedmont Carolina is his ability to remember countless dates and facts which he has accumulated over the years. He has a flair for dates that seems marvelous to those who are accustomed to those who regard them as stumbling blocks on the road to learning. Histories of the Civil War are about things that happened on an exact date and month and year. He remembers the number of killed and wounded, peculiar incidents, methods of fighting in all the battles in which he took part and they are many. He was at Seven Pines, at Hatcher’s Run, at the Seven Days battles around Richmond, at Sharpsburg, at Fort Sheridan, with Lee at Fredericksburg, at Malvern Hill, and many others of lesser importance. This remarkable old man comes of Irish ancestry. His parental grandfather came to America from Tyrone County, Ireland in 1794 and his maternal grandfather from County Anson about the same time. His father bought the tract of land upon which Col. Wilson still lives in 1822 for a little more than a dollar an acre. The Wilsons are still prosperous farmers, cultivating the land handed down to them since 1822, adding to it from time to time. Robert Newton Wilson was born in 1838 in a house built a half mile from the one he now occupies with his son Clarence. Although his marches during the Civil War carried him far from home, he was captured by the Yankees nine days before Lee’s surrender and taken to Johnston’s Island on Lake Erie—he has always come back to this place which has always been his home except for a few years residence in Gastonia, ten miles distant. The old homestead, erected in 1835, is now occupied by one of his sons. It was originally built of logs, but was re-covered about 45 years ago and stands today almost perfectly preserved. There, as a young man of twenty three, he said good bye and went away to war. It is of the war—and he never means the World War, that the Colonel loves to talk. In the earlier days of the war he was commissioned lieutenant colonel 37th N.C. Militia and it is this title by which he is still called, although during the war he was made first lieutenant in the Confederate Army. Colonel Wilson left home May 27, 1862 to join Company H, 49th (?) regiment at Goldsboro. No time was lost in getting them into shape. After three days drilling at Goldsboro, the company went to Petersburg for training. He was in eight battles, one of which was Seven Pines. The Battle of Malvern Hill is the one he remembers where he came the closest to being killed. The bullet holes in his hat gave mute evidence of where he had been. At Fredericksburg, he fought under the peerless Lee, at another time he was led by Stonewall Jackson and another time by Longstreet. For three months before he was promoted to lieutenant, Col. Wilson served as forage master for Bushrod Johnson’s supply trains, a position which he said he would not have exchanged for General Lee’s. Before he could be commissioned a lieutenant, he had to be examined before a military board of the Confederate Army. He recalls vividly the questions asked him in reading, writing, arithmetic and military terms. Another incident which stands out in his memory, is the farewell address of Colonel Zebulon Vance to his brigade before he went home to take up the more arduous work of governing North Carolina during the remainder of the war. It is a well known fact that Confederate soldiers went hungry during much of the war because there was nobody back home to raise the crops. One of Wilson’s neighbors deserted to the enemy because the pangs of hunger grew too keen. Most of the Confederate soldiers, however, were more loyal to say the least. They raided the cornfields of Maryland and burned the cobs to hide them from the officers, because raiding was strictly against orders. He once enjoyed a good meal at the risk of his life. A guinea was knocked from its roost in a tree from a Yankee bullet and with lead flying about his head, he stopped to pick it up. But he still thinks the supper was worth the risk of obtaining it. Just nine days before General Lee surrendered at Appomattox, Wilson and a number of his comrades were captured at Five Forks in Virginia and were taken on boat to Washington. There they remained until the day of surrender, April 9, when he was removed to Johnston Island in Lake Erie. Colonel Hill, of Ohio, in addressing the Confederate prisoners at Johnston’s Island, made the statement that it was unfortunate for the South that Lincoln was dead. This was also Colonel Wilson’s opinion. Much of the misery and degradation in the South during the Reconstruction period might have been avoided, he thinks, if Lincoln had been permitted to guide the policies of the Federal government during that period. Colonel Wilson says he made almost as good a prisoner as he did a soldier—he was obedient in both capacities. While in prison, he had some form of duty to perform all the time—from police duty to operating a washing machine. The Southern prisoners at the island were paroled on June 20, 1865 and Col. Wilson started on his long journey home. At Harrisburg, Pa., he paid $60 in Confederate money for six pies, and enjoyed the immensely, he said. Leaving the train at Charlotte, he walked the remaining twenty odd miles to reach his home, and went to work. Transcribed by Christine Spencer, June 2008 |