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Born at Berry Hill, Culpeper Co., Va., in 1828. Son of John Triplett Watson Thom. Educated at Fredericksburg Academy. In 1846 he was commissioned 2nd Lieut. in the 11th U.S. Inf. and served in Mexico (was wounded at National Bridge). He then studied medicine at U.Va. and Jefferson Medical College (graduating from latter in 1852). Was then appointed Assistant-Surgeon in the U.S. Navy and assigned to the USS Savannah. He spent three and a half years cruising the eastern coast of South America. He resigned, having become engaged, and settled on a plantation in Culpeper Co., Va. Married Elle Lee Wright in 1857. Captain, Co.C, 1st (Irish) Va. Inf. Bn. Was wounded three times at Kernstown:- “ I learn from Captain Thom…that at the time of that separation [ie of the right wing of the Bn. from the main body) he proceeded with the men under his command to the right…and received a ball against his left breast, which was prevented from penetrating his body by a small copy of the New Testament in a pocket of his shirt, and one through the fleshy part of the palm of his right hand, and fell…” On recovering from these wounds he was assigned to duty in Richmond, forwarding troops and supplies down the James. But in late 1862 ill-health forced his resignation. Married Catherine G. Reynolds in 1863. Early in 1863 he sailed for England and thence to the Continent, “expecting to receive a commission on some of the vessels being fitted out for the Confederacy, but in this he was prevented.” In the spring of 1866 he returned to America from Canada and settled in Baltimore. Was a City Councillor, State Legislator and President of the State Asylum. Died in 1899. [O’Grady, Clear The Confederate Way, p.287; Johnson, Confederate Military History of Maryland, pp.413-415; his papers are held by the Maryland Historical Society.]
Born in Abingdon,Virginia, on 5th June 1829. Son of George V. Litchfield & Rachel Trigg. Sgt., Co.L [later the second Co.D ], 1st Va. Cavalry: early 1861. Elected Captain at the 23rd April 1862 reorganization. W.W. Blackford, whom he replaced, alleged that Litchfield campaigned on the basis of intending to get the company redesignated as an artillery unit: “I could hear him canvassing from my tent. It was not that he wanted the captaincy on his own account – oh, no! but he did want to be transferred to the Artillery and the men knew that I would not agree to this, for I was a Stuart man, etc., etc.” Wounded in arm at Shepherdstown on 1st October 1862. At Brandy Station he was wounded by a bullet which entered his cheek just below the right eye. The field surgeon probed, but failed to locate the bullet. The palate was touched in the search for it, which led to the belief that it had either been swallowed or spat out. "As the years came and went it became more and more troublesome. Violent pain in the face and head, accompanied by suppuration and free discharge of pus and water through the eye and nose led physicians to diagnose the case as 'chronic nasal catarrh', for which he was treated, but that gave only temporary relief. The agony continued, and he gradually lost the sight of his right eye. He was in the habit of taking a morphine tablet when the pain became intolerable. This always nauseated him, and in July, 1897, during a violent fit of vomiting caused by morphine, he felt something hard drop into his mouth, and from the mouth it went into the pan. It proved to be the long-lost pistol bullet....marked improvement in health followed this deliverance; but the right eye had become so diseased that, in order to save the other, it was removed." Wounded at Raccoon Ford on 11th October 1863. Wounded at Nance’s Shop on 25th June 1864. Wounded at Winchester on 19th September 1864, and one source states that this, rather than Brandy Station, was the occasion when he received the bullet which stayed with him for so many years. Post-war businessman in Lynchburg & Abingdon. Postmaster of Abingdon: 1887-1890. Died in the latter place on 5th or 6th August 1909. Buried in Sinking Spring Cemetery, Abingdon. [Blackford, War Years With J.E.B. Stuart, pp.62-63; The Virginia Regimental Histories Series (c) Historical Data Systems, Inc. @ www.civilwardata.com]
Born on 2nd May 1826. Resident of Baltimore, Md. Served for 7 years in the U.S. Navy, resigning at the beginning of the war. Was imprisoned in Delaware early in the war for his Confederate sympathies. In December 1861 he was serving as a volunteer aide to Richard B. Garnett; on 24th March or 30th June 1862 [sources differ] he was appointed Lieut. & ADC. V.A.D.C. to Ewell at Cedar Mountain, where the following description of him, penned by a Yankee journalist, was the result of a truce after the battle:- "The other man [Johnston] was young, stout, and good humored; and he talked sententiously, with a little vanity, but much courtesy...Young Johnston was a Baltimorean, and wished his people to know something of him; he gave me a card, stated that he was one of Gen. Garnett's aids, and had opened the armistice, early in the day, by riding into the Federal lines with a flag of truce." Severely wounded & captured at Sharpsburg; leg amputated. Served as a volunteer on Ewell's staff at Gettysburg. Campbell Brown wrote that “Johnson [sic] had a large prominent nose, too broad & thick for Roman – but of that style. In the hot weather around Gettysburg, he got it sunburned badly & the skin came off near the end. The surgeon gave him a rag about an inch square with some sort of ointment on it – which Johnson put on so as to project a little beyond the end of his nose. Riding along the line in this fashion, a soldier yelled at him: ‘I say, Mister, come out from under that shelter tent. I know you’re in there.’ Elliott was a droll fellow himself - & when we were at Orange C.H. in 1863 gave a good explanation of his wounds. He got drunk & fell off his horse two or three times, trying to come home on a dark night. One shoulder (the left) was much bruised - & the right side of his bald head was badly skinned. We concealed his drunkenness from Gen’l E., but told of his wounds – so the Gen’l came to see him & condole with him. ‘Captain Johnson, I’m sorry to see you so much hurt. You must have had a pretty bad fall. But how in the world did you manage to hurt one shoulder & the opposite side of your head?” Elliott raised himself on his elbow & answered promptly, ‘I don’t know how it happened Sir unless I ricocheted’ – a supposition altogether in conformity with the beer-barrel shape of his figure.” Captain & A.A.G. of Stafford's Brigade: 19th November or 7th December 1863. “Probably never served, as he declared himself unfit for field duty.” By September 1864 he was definitely unfit for field duty and so retired to work for the Conscript Bureau. [He appears to have formally retired to the Invalid Corps on 14th December 1864.] On 1st January 1865 he applied for a 4-month furlough to go to Europe and obtain a new false-leg. Died on 31st January 1901. Buried in Green Mount Cemetery, Baltimore. [Krick, Staff Officers In Gray, p.173; Jones, Campbell Brown’s Civil War, pp.226-227; Hartzler, A Band Of Brothers, pp.153, 157 & 158.]
Born in Co. Wexford, Ireland, in 1841. Came to New Orleans with his family in 1853. 5’ 6”, blue eyes, light hair, light complexion. Commissary Sgt., Co.I, 6th La. Inf.: 4th June 1861. Discharged because of ill-health on 22nd August 1861. “Sergeant Walshe, or ‘Eddie’, as the men affectionately called him, was of delicate constitution, and he was soon afterward honorably discharged on account of physical disability. Returning to New Orleans, he regained his health, and re-enlisted in Dreux’s battalion, on duty upon the Virginia peninsula. After the disbandment of that command he joined the Fourth Virginia cavalry, and at a later date was elected a lieutenant of his old company.” Elected 3rd Lieut. in December 1862. Captured at Rappahannock Station on 7th November 1863. P.O.W. on Johnson’s Island and in Point Lookout. “Clothing and food were sent him from his father, Rev. A.C. Walshe, who was in Canada, and from friends in Philadelphia, but the boxes were never delivered. Just before the evacuation [actually 16th February 1865] he was exchanged on account of his feeble condition, and he returned to his home. Finding occupation with the Morgan line of steamers, he was made purser of the steamer Louise, but the fatigues of war and the cruel hardships of prison camp had fatally broken his vitality, and he died in New Orleans, in his twenty-fifth year, July 2nd, 1866.” Paroled on 15 May 1865, at which date he gave his place of residence as Okyka, Miss. [Gannon, Irish Rebels, Confederate Tigers, p.385; Dimitry, Confederate Military History of Louisiana, pp.615-616.]
Born in Richmond on 24th February 1843. Son of Thomas Randolph Price & Christian Elizabeth Hall. On 10th October 1861 he enlisted in the 3rd Co., Richmond Howitzers. [He may have previously enlisted in Co.F, 21st Va Inf., on 16th May 1861.] Appointed A.D.C. to J.E.B. Stuart on 8th August 1862. Almost immediately, however, he became de facto Adjt. as well: he wrote letters home complaining of being overworked. [His father's eyesight had deteriorated to the point where he could no longer write his own business letters: Channing had mastered the art of virtually complete and immediate auditory memorization, being able to write letters without taking notes.] A fellow staff officer wrote of him: “Repeatedly have I seen while on a march General Stuart dictate two or three letters to him, giving orders to the commanders of the different columns. Each one of them would state by what places the columns were to move, at what hours they were to leave these places and where they were to concentrate. Price would listen, and without asking him to repeat a single thing, or taking a single note, he would ride out to one side of the road, dismount, take his little portfolio out of his haversack and write the letters ready for the General’s signature; and it was rarely the case that any alteration was made when Stuart read them and affixed his signature.” Promoted Major & A.A.G. in the spring of 1863. Killed at Chancellorsville on 1st May 1863: "a shell exploded near the party and a fragment struck Price behind the knee. He at first thought the wound was only a minor one and insisted on remaining with Stuart. An artery had been severed, however, and his boot quickly filled with blood. The loss of blood was great and caused him to faint. No surgeon was present, nor did any of the staff members have a tourniquet. Price was carried back about a mile to the home of Charles Welford on the Furnace Road. His brother, Thomas, arrived and was with him at the end, which came sometime around midnight." Stuart himself wrote to Price’s mother: “He was a universal favorite, and was cheerful and happy in his occupation – I have no hesitancy in saying no one about me could have been less spared, and I miss him hourly now. His ready pen and fine perception saved me much labor, and contributed amazingly to the success of operations under my control.” Buried in Hollywood Cemetery, Richmond. [Trout, They Followed The Plume, pp.218-224; Blackford, War Years With J.E.B. Stuart, pp.204-205;
Born in S.C. State Auditor of Mississippi. Owned 54 acres of land and one slave near Jackson, Miss. State legislator. In 1854 he founded the Mississippi State School For The Deaf. Captain, Co.K, 18th Miss. Inf.: 22nd April 1861. Colonel: 7th June 1861. Mortally wounded in abdomen at Ball’s Bluff on 21st October 1861: “a volley from the California Regiment mortally wounded Colonel Burt of the 18th Mississippi almost as soon as he brought his regiment onto the field. As he was being lowered from his horse, he turned to an aide and said in a quiet, conversational tone: ‘Go tell Colonel Jenifer I am wounded and shall have to leave the field.’ ” He died on 26th October. Virginia J. Miller described Burt’s last days in her diary a month after the event: “We came home full of the wildest apprehensions and anxieties and the first news that greeted us was that Col. Burt was killed, but I feel as if it could not be and God only knows the agony I endured until Dr. Lane came to bearing us a message from him saying he was seriously but he hoped not mortally wounded, and would be here in a few moments. He was wounded in the right hip. Most anxiously and carefully did we prepare his room for him, and faced the gravel walk, gazing fearfully at every wounded person that was carried by, until just after dark they came and we heard the darling Colonel's voice saying "how do", in his old familiar way, and speaking to each one of us and calling us by name. They rested him while in the passage, and as I stepped forward to take his sword and belt from the Doctor, can I ever forget the gentle, kind way in which he called my name and held out his hand. They then took him upstairs, but a mark of his suffering remained behind in the blood which stained the floor. As soon as he was fixed in bed, he asked for us, and I sat by him and gave him his coffee, and stayed with him until after ten, when the Adjutant and Sargeant came to be with him. He asked, so kindly, after father and "the boys" and talked so like himself. He took one of my hands in his and pressed the other to his head, and once when I left his side to let Mr. Stuart get there, he said, "Sargeant, you have Miss Jenny's place, you men are so different from the ladies, there's nothing like the ladies". Oh, every word and look is doubly engraved on my heart and mind, and I can never forget them, but it is so late that I must stop now. Friday night, November 22nd. I have not much time to write tonight as candle is very low, but I will commence where I left off last night. After the Adjutant and Sargeant Major Stuart came we went down stairs and about sixteen or more soldiers came in for their suppers, and we were up until half past twelve waiting on them. Among the last to come was Capt. Upshur of the 17th (Mississippi). He had been here just ten days before with Cols. Burt (18th Mississippi) W. S. Featherstone (17th Mississippi) and T.M. Griffin, and Capt. Goodman. He spoke so lovingly and kindly of the dear Col. and when he heard he was here, begged to be allowed to see him, and went up for a little while. There was one thing for which I was very sorry, which was, that they told the Col. of the death of one or two of his old company, the Burt Rifles, (Company K, 18th Mississippi Infantry) one of them, in particular, Gen Pettus' son. It seemed to distress him so, and to be on his mind, to the very last. He begged them to try and get a metallic coffin to put him in and he would take him home with him, as soon as he was able to move. I think he seemed to realize from the first that his wound was mortal, for one of the first things he said was "It will be long, before you will see me on dress parade again, if ever". Tuesday his mind first began to wander and he was conscious of it. We attributed it to the effect of the morphine he had taken the night before, when he took in he said, "My wife always begs me not to take so much morphine". He asked me to read the newspaper to him, but he soon dropped to sleep. A great many of the Reg. came to see him. At first, I left the room when they came in, but he said "don't leave me, tho' I am so stupid". One thing that made me feel very sad, was to see how one by one things he had liked seemed to become distasteful to him. Tuesday morning Mr. Caskey came to see him, and smoked in his room. When I came back, I asked him if he had been smoking, and he said "Yes, but I like chewing better", and asked Sally to hand him his tobacco, but his relish for it was gone. He got us to bring up his hat, and show him his coat sleeve where the ball had passed through and then asked me to look at the third finger of the left hand to see if it was wounded. It was grazed by a ball, which he said had out the bridle of his horse. He talked a good deal all morning, and told us all about the battle, and asked about every one of his friends. After dinner, he became very drowsy, and it was then the Doctor gave up hope for him. Dr. Gilmer said typhoid symptoms had set in. It poured down raining all that day. As we sat in his room about twilight, I became very uneasy at his irregular and uneasy breathing and stepped to his side, and placed my hand on his head, and he clenched hold of it with his hand which was wringing wet, as I supposed with blood.” [Farwell, Ball’s Bluff: A Small Battle And Its Long Shadow, p.96; The Diary Of Miss Virginia J. Miller @ http://www.mileslehane.com/diary.html]
Born on 31st May 1841. Pvt., Co.E, Holcombe Legion Cavalry: 18th June 1862. Promoted Sgt. that same month. This unit became Co.H, 7th S.C. Cavalry, in 1864. Promoted 2nd Lieut. on 21st September 1864. At Darbytown Road on 7th October 1864, “The old Boykin Rangers were in the lead with Capt. Doby. Its young Lieutenant, James Haile, was at the head, mounted on ‘Captain Hogmaster’, a horse captured some time before from a Federal officer of that name. The horse was of great size, about 17 hands in height, with four white legs, a blaze face and ‘glass eyes’, a red sorrel of tremendous power and speed. Haile had long coveted this horse, and had but recently acquired him. He had also a beautiful blade, which he had bought the day before, from a gentleman from Glasgow. Lieut. Hale was a noble young fellow, modest as a girl, and of few words, but with a splendid eye and nerves like steel. He took off his hat, I remember, and buttoned it in his jacket, because he thought, as Robinson Crusoe, that when that was gone he would probably get no more….the thrilling incident of this charge was the headlong rush made by Lieut. Haile, followed by little private Arthur on a blood bay, and until hidden from sight by the dust we could see them going at full speed, Haile in the lead cutting right and left….Haile came up from the other side, having gone out at the other end of the federal column and made his escape. Arthur was captured near the end of the column. Haile came back to fight many times again; and being complimented, blushed as he answered, ‘I wouldn’t have gone in so deep, Colonel, but Hogmaster took the bit in his teeth, and I couldn’t stop him.’ ” At Appomattox. Married Mary Virginia Hamilton. A James L. Haile “assassinated” Colonel L.W.R. Blair on the streets of Camden, S.C., on 4th July 1882. Died on 28th February 1908. Buried in the Quaker Cemetery in Camden, S.C. [Haskell, Alexander Cheves Haskell: The Portrait Of A Man, pp.145-146.]
Sgt., Co.K, 28th Va. Inf.: 19th May 1861. 2nd Lieut.: 26th December 1862. Wounded at Gaines Mill; hospitalised until August 1862. “At the time, he was wearing his haversack full of good Yankee crackers on his front to give himself a little protection. A bullet struck the haversack, and it was deflected into his groin.” Captured at Greencastle, Pa., on 2nd July 1863. P.O.W. on Johnson’s Island. He escaped on 21st February, 1864: “The water pumps at the prison camp had frozen, and the prisoners were allowed to go out on the frozen lake to dip water from holes in the ice. During this process, it was customary for the Confederate prisoners and Union soldiers, who skated on the lake, to assemble in groups to trade rings and watch fobs for tobacco. Since old blue uniforms were being worn by some prisoners, William Woodsonwas able to hide among the Union soldiers when the Confederate soldiers were taken back in the prison. With the aid of a forged Union Army pass and civilian clothes that had been sent to him, he made a five week trip back to Virginia.” Another account goes into more detail: “When they reached the ice holes he casually walked away from his comrades ad toward Sandusky. Suddenly a Union officer called to him from the shore and demanded to see his identification. Woodson confidently presented the officer with the fake pass. The officer merely reprimanded the anxious ‘soldier’ for being on the island and instructed him to return to the city immediately. Woodson wasted no time in complying with the order and hurried across the lake. As he approached Sandusky, ‘it seemed that the whole island was coming after [him].’ Fortunately, he escaped undetected. The first nights of Woodson’s freedom were horrifying. He vividly described the scene: ‘Now I am a tramp again, this cold night, with feet so sore that I could hardly make a mile an hour. I made some faint efforts to get lodging, but failed, and so there was nothing for me but the tramp. I suppose everyone has his darkest night. Of all nights of my whole life, this was my hardest, darkest and most awful. It was too cold to stand still, and I had a great inclination to lie down, but I knew that would not do. Sometimes I would lean on a fence and nod, for I had slept but little since I left the island. Sometimes I leaned against a tree, and sometimes set on a stump for a few minutes. Oh, I was so tired and feet so sore; all to get back to my native state, to my mother, sweetheart and Company K.’ Four days after leaving Sandusky, Woodson reached Dayton. Without rest or food and anguished by sore feet, he continued southward. At noon on February 27, the exhausted soldier crossed the Ohio River by boat and landed at Covington, Ky. There he awaited Confederate scouts to accompany him on the trip back to Virginia. An attempt to make the distance alone through the wilderness would have been too dangerous. In Covington, Federal soldiers suspiciously approached Woodson a number of times and inquired about his presence. In each instance he pretended to be a ‘peaceful citizen of Ohio’ on business in Kentucky. Woodson then became ‘enraged’ when the Federals accused him of being a Confederate spy. Three weeks later, Woodson departed for the Old Dominion with Confederate scouts. By May, the group had travelled through Pound Gap, Kentucky, and Woodson set foot in his beloved homeland. He noted that ‘as my eyes fell on the mountains of Old Virginia I could have raised a regular Rebel Yell for the joy it gave me.’ Shortly, he returned to Botetourt County, and by late May he had joined Company K. A website on Johnson’s Island confirms that his escape was kept a secret until 30th June 1864. Wounded at Cold Harbor on 1st June 1864. Hospitalised in December 1864. Married on 13th December 1864. Captured at Farmville during the retreat to Appomattox. “On April 7, the prisoners from Hunton’s brigade were marched to Burkeville. There the indefatigable and elusive Lt. Woodson planned a second escape from Union captors. Woodson was ‘more than ever determined not to go to prison’ because he remembered the horrible conditions at Johnson’s Island. Convinced that the same scheme he had used to escape from Johnson’s Island would work at Burkeville, Woodson again obtained a blue coat and trousers. As the prisoners headed for Petersburg under heavy guard, Woodson searched for a way to separate from the group and join the Union troops on the roadside. When the long line of 1,500 Confederates entered a dense wooded area, Woodson acted. He bolted from the group of prisoners to a nearby tree with a trunk large enough to conceal his entire body. Then he walked away as a Union guard approached. Woodson attempted to deceive the man by making ‘saucy’ remarks to his ‘old, tired, hungry boys.’ He yelled, ‘I guess the war is over now. There goes all of Mr. Lee’s men to prison.’ The ploy worked. The guard faced about and returned to duty. Woodson has escaped once again.” [Fields, 28th Virginia Infantry, pp.30-31, 39, 87; http://www.johnsonsisland.org/history/war.htm]
Born in Clarke Co., Va., on 20th February 1837. Attended U.Va. Married Ada Stuart. Pvt., Co.C, 2nd Va. Inf.: 1st June 1861. Captain: 20th April 1862. Early in 1863 he and his cousin, Merewether Lewis Randolph “stopped overnight with us, on scouting expeditions across the Rappahannock in the enemy’s lines, where Willie Randolph had a sweetheart, whom he, soon after this, married….William Randolph was six feet two inches in height, and said that he had often been asked how he escaped in battle, and his reply was, ‘By taking a judicious advantage of the shrubbery.’ This, however, did not continue to avail him, as he was afterward killed while in command of his regiment…” At Chancellorsville, “the coolness and bravery of Captain Randolph inspired his men. He was a very tall man, and as the line advanced seeing some men a little distance from him being shot in the legs, he said to his men: ‘Boys I believe I will go down there, I might get a furlough.’ Sometimes the men used to call getting a wound, getting a furlough. His indifference to danger as well as his coolness had the desired effect on his Company and others near him.” Lt-Colonel: 26th April 1864. Killed at The Wilderness on 5th May 1864: “Our regiment was on the extreme left and we had to keep moving in order to keep in touch with the brigade. Colonel Randolph was on foot behind the line, carrying in his hand a chess board, of which game he was very fond. Being near the writer at one time in the thick woods he remarked to me: ‘Tom, how will we get out of this place?’ I answered: ‘Oh, you will get us out all right’….in the meantime in order to steady the line, Colonel Randolph had ordered the flag to a position near him and had gathered a number of men near it to protect. Just after this had been done, the writer who was near the Colonel saw Sergeant Lewis of Co. ‘C’ talking to him. They were talking very coolly but very earnestly and seriously. Sergeant Lewis with his hands resting on the muzzle of his gun and the Colonel with his chess board under his arm as calm as if in not the least danger, although the fire at this point was too hot to be comfortable…..as our men were holding their own, the Colonel moved off with Sergeant Lewis to make an attempt to bring off the body of Lieutenant Grubbs. While going on this sacred duty Colonel Randolph was struck by a ball in the head and died immediately.” Buried in the Old Chapel Cemetery, Millwood, Va. The same writer who described his death wrote of Randolph that he “stood like King Saul, head and shoulders above any man, scholar, gymnast, statesman, and the bravest man I thought in the army. I recall how he looked as he walked on top of the works at Gettysburg, carrying an oil cloth full of ammunition to the Company.” [Moore, The Story Of A Cannoneer Under Stonewall Jackson, p.169; Gold, History Of Clarke County, Virginia, portrait facing p.194, pp.215, 218-219, 224.]
Captain, Co.B, 27th S.C. Inf. H. Clay Trumbull, Chaplain of the 10th Conn. Inf., wrote in his memoirs that Simons was a native of Charleston, S.C., and had graduated from Yale in 1847. He first met Simons when the latter was Captain of a Charleston light battery on Morris Island in July 1863: “As I knew several of his class-mates, we had a pleasant conversation together. He said that he had longed for this conflict for years. He was a secessionist before secession was accomplished. He was a member of the state convention that declared South Carolina out of the Union, and voted for that action. And now that the war was in progress, he was sure that it could never end except in the independence of the South. ‘You can never subjugate us,’ he said. ‘We would fight, if need be, till our last man was in the field.’ Later he called on me in Columbia Jail. He spoke again in the same confident strain. The following year he sent a kindly greeting to me across the lines in Virginia, when he found that he was once more over against my regiment. After the war, I learned that he was the editor of the Charleston Courier. Being in that city, I called on him. Welcoming me cordially, he said frankly: ‘Well, Chaplain, when I saw you last I didn’t think the war would end as it did.’ Then he continued: ‘But, oh dear! I was ready for the end long before it came. We couldn’t stand that Grant of yours. It was his eternal pound, pound, pound, that did the business. We would have been glad to go into one great battle and fight it out to the finish. But he kept at it all the time. Whether we whipped him or not one day, we had to go at it the next day, and try it over again. He wouldn’t give us any rest. Finally we found it was just die to-day, or to-morrow, or the next day, or the next week, and gain nothing by it. There was no other alternative, and we longed for the end to come.’ ” Could be the Thomas Y. Simons who died on 30th April 1878, in his 50th year; he is buried in Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, S.C. [Trumbull, War Memories Of A Chaplain, pp.257, 322-324; Serrano, Still More Confederate Faces, p.80.]
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