CONFEDERATE SOLDIER: GRANDPA HARRIS
He was a lanky sixteen-year-old. A band was playing, Confederate Flags were waving and the people were cheering in Clay County Alabama in a small place called Wesabulga.
The word was that if they didn't go quickly, the fighting would be over before they got there. Jeff Harris and his uncle Pony Roberts went.
It is not known what the lad expected - but what was going on at Corinth, Mississippi was not it! Standing behind a tree, the bullets were so thick that young Jeff thought that if he held out an arm or a leg, it would be riddled by bullets. What limb could he best spare? His left arm became his choice. He held it out. Nothing happened. When the word came to advance, he went. With bullets that thick, he said one would try to hide behind a straw.
The full account of his war activities are not remembered. At one time he was wounded. The impact of the bullet that struck the flesh above his rib-cage knocked him to the ground. Getting up, he went to the first aid station. The Medic placed a metal pan in his lap to catch the bullet when it was taken out. It came sooner than expected. When the Medic pulled his shirt back to find the wound, the bullet fell into the pan. He had stood at the end of a spent bullet. It had thrust the heavy material of his shirt into his flesh and held it firmly until it was pulled out. It was his only wound. So here we are !
Written by Florine Harris Robinson January 28, 2005
He was a lanky sixteen-year-old. A band was playing, Confederate Flags were waving and the people were cheering in Clay County Alabama in a small place called Wesabulga.
The word was that if they didn't go quickly, the fighting would be over before they got there. Jeff Harris and his uncle Pony Roberts went.
It is not known what the lad expected - but what was going on at Corinth, Mississippi was not it! Standing behind a tree, the bullets were so thick that young Jeff thought that if he held out an arm or a leg, it would be riddled by bullets. What limb could he best spare? His left arm became his choice. He held it out. Nothing happened. When the word came to advance, he went. With bullets that thick, he said one would try to hide behind a straw.
The full account of his war activities are not remembered. At one time he was wounded. The impact of the bullet that struck the flesh above his rib-cage knocked him to the ground. Getting up, he went to the first aid station. The Medic placed a metal pan in his lap to catch the bullet when it was taken out. It came sooner than expected. When the Medic pulled his shirt back to find the wound, the bullet fell into the pan. He had stood at the end of a spent bullet. It had thrust the heavy material of his shirt into his flesh and held it firmly until it was pulled out. It was his only wound. So here we are !
Written by Florine Harris Robinson January 28, 2005
CONFEDERATE SOLDIER: GRANDPA HARRIS
He was a lanky sixteen-year-old. A band was playing, Confederate Flags were waving and the people were cheering in Clay County Alabama in a small place called Wesabulga.
The word was that if they didn't go quickly, the fighting would be over before they got there. Jeff Harris and his uncle Pony Roberts went.
It is not known what the lad expected - but what was going on at Corinth, Mississippi was not it! Standing behind a tree, the bullets were so thick that young Jeff thought that if he held out an arm or a leg, it would be riddled by bullets. What limb could he best spare? His left arm became his choice. He held it out. Nothing happened. When the word came to advance, he went. With bullets that thick, he said one would try to hide behind a straw.
The full account of his war activities are not remembered. At one time he was wounded. The impact of the bullet that struck the flesh above his rib-cage knocked him to the ground. Getting up, he went to the first aid station. The Medic placed a metal pan in his lap to catch the bullet when it was taken out. It came sooner than expected. When the Medic pulled his shirt back to find the wound, the bullet fell into the pan. He had stood at the end of a spent bullet. It had thrust the heavy material of his shirt into his flesh and held it firmly until it was pulled out. It was his only wound. So here we are !
Written by Florine Harris Robinson January 28, 2005
He was a lanky sixteen-year-old. A band was playing, Confederate Flags were waving and the people were cheering in Clay County Alabama in a small place called Wesabulga.
The word was that if they didn't go quickly, the fighting would be over before they got there. Jeff Harris and his uncle Pony Roberts went.
It is not known what the lad expected - but what was going on at Corinth, Mississippi was not it! Standing behind a tree, the bullets were so thick that young Jeff thought that if he held out an arm or a leg, it would be riddled by bullets. What limb could he best spare? His left arm became his choice. He held it out. Nothing happened. When the word came to advance, he went. With bullets that thick, he said one would try to hide behind a straw.
The full account of his war activities are not remembered. At one time he was wounded. The impact of the bullet that struck the flesh above his rib-cage knocked him to the ground. Getting up, he went to the first aid station. The Medic placed a metal pan in his lap to catch the bullet when it was taken out. It came sooner than expected. When the Medic pulled his shirt back to find the wound, the bullet fell into the pan. He had stood at the end of a spent bullet. It had thrust the heavy material of his shirt into his flesh and held it firmly until it was pulled out. It was his only wound. So here we are !
Written by Florine Harris Robinson January 28, 2005
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