Late in the year of 1913, then old Missouri Confederate veteran James Synnamon wrote a short account of his service for The Confederate Veteran Magazine, detailing all the wounds he suffered throughout the war. Synnamon served in the Missouri State Guard and Co. I of the 6th Missouri Infantry in Francis M. Cockrell's famed 1st Missouri Brigade.
A VETERAN WITH MANY WOUNDS.
BY JAMES SYNNAMON, WESTON, MO.
I was seventy-six years old last August. I was born in Philadelphia, Pa., and joined Gen. Sterling Price's division as a private in May, 1861. After passing the intervening ranks, I became captain of Company I, 6th Missouri Infantry, and was recommended for brevet after the battle of Franklin.
At Wilson Creek I was wounded in the head and shoulder and lost the sight of my right eye.
At Corinth, Miss., the 6th Missouri went into battle with three hundred and forty-seven men, and at roll call after the battle only thirty-five answered for duty, the rest having been killed or wounded (none captured). In this battle I was wounded in the foot, the side, and through the shoulder.
At Port Gibson I was knocked senseless by a shell and left for dead, and have been deaf in one ear ever since.
At Black River, when the 61st Tennessee gave way on the railroad that crossed our works, Colonel Riley, of the 1st Missouri Regiment, left the works on our right, crossed our rear at a double-quick, formed, as we thought, on our left, and opened fire on the Federals in our works. He then left us and retreated across the bridge. As we were the only troops now left, Colonel Cooper ordered us to fall back to the river bank and cross the bridge. Not being much of a runner, I did not get to the bridge until it was a mass of flames; but being a good swimmer, I swung my boots about my neck, plunged in, and made the other side.
At the siege of Vicksburg I was constantly in the trenches, and received there several slight wounds. On one occasion I was buried under the dirt torn up by an exploding shell, and had to be dug out along with Captain Lile, who had involuntarily shared the same misfortune.
When the men were paroled after the surrender, I was put on provost marshal duty on the Mobile and Ohio Railroad until exchanged, when I reported to General Hood in Atlanta. I was with General Stuart [probably meant Alexander P. Stewart's Corps] in the battle of Franklin and was in the last charge, about sundown, when Stuart and Cheatham attempted to take the works from which our troops had been repulsed. It seemed to me that the air was all red and blue flames, with shells and bullets screeching and howling everywhere, over and through us, as we rushed across the cotton fields strewn with fallen men. Wounded and dying men lay all about in ghastly piles, and when we reached the works at the old cotton gin gatepost only two or three of my companions were with me. They went into the ditch, but I was tumbled over by a Yankee bullet and was dragged over and laid a prisoner by the old ginhouse. That night I was put into an ambulance and taken to Nashville and placed in a hospital, where I, with other prisoners, was kept on a diet of bread and water in retaliation for what was claimed to be Confederate cruelties practiced on Federal officers at Charleston.
At the close of the winter the few of us who were left were taken to Fort Delaware, where we were kept until the end of the war.
My company has forty men buried in soldiers' graves, and those who survived the war were all wounded. There are now living three in my own county in Missouri, one in the eastern part of the State, one in Kentucky, one in Alabama, and one in California.
- Confederate Veteran, Vol. 12, December 1913, page 582
A VETERAN WITH MANY WOUNDS.
BY JAMES SYNNAMON, WESTON, MO.
I was seventy-six years old last August. I was born in Philadelphia, Pa., and joined Gen. Sterling Price's division as a private in May, 1861. After passing the intervening ranks, I became captain of Company I, 6th Missouri Infantry, and was recommended for brevet after the battle of Franklin.
At Wilson Creek I was wounded in the head and shoulder and lost the sight of my right eye.
At Corinth, Miss., the 6th Missouri went into battle with three hundred and forty-seven men, and at roll call after the battle only thirty-five answered for duty, the rest having been killed or wounded (none captured). In this battle I was wounded in the foot, the side, and through the shoulder.
At Port Gibson I was knocked senseless by a shell and left for dead, and have been deaf in one ear ever since.
At Black River, when the 61st Tennessee gave way on the railroad that crossed our works, Colonel Riley, of the 1st Missouri Regiment, left the works on our right, crossed our rear at a double-quick, formed, as we thought, on our left, and opened fire on the Federals in our works. He then left us and retreated across the bridge. As we were the only troops now left, Colonel Cooper ordered us to fall back to the river bank and cross the bridge. Not being much of a runner, I did not get to the bridge until it was a mass of flames; but being a good swimmer, I swung my boots about my neck, plunged in, and made the other side.
At the siege of Vicksburg I was constantly in the trenches, and received there several slight wounds. On one occasion I was buried under the dirt torn up by an exploding shell, and had to be dug out along with Captain Lile, who had involuntarily shared the same misfortune.
When the men were paroled after the surrender, I was put on provost marshal duty on the Mobile and Ohio Railroad until exchanged, when I reported to General Hood in Atlanta. I was with General Stuart [probably meant Alexander P. Stewart's Corps] in the battle of Franklin and was in the last charge, about sundown, when Stuart and Cheatham attempted to take the works from which our troops had been repulsed. It seemed to me that the air was all red and blue flames, with shells and bullets screeching and howling everywhere, over and through us, as we rushed across the cotton fields strewn with fallen men. Wounded and dying men lay all about in ghastly piles, and when we reached the works at the old cotton gin gatepost only two or three of my companions were with me. They went into the ditch, but I was tumbled over by a Yankee bullet and was dragged over and laid a prisoner by the old ginhouse. That night I was put into an ambulance and taken to Nashville and placed in a hospital, where I, with other prisoners, was kept on a diet of bread and water in retaliation for what was claimed to be Confederate cruelties practiced on Federal officers at Charleston.
At the close of the winter the few of us who were left were taken to Fort Delaware, where we were kept until the end of the war.
My company has forty men buried in soldiers' graves, and those who survived the war were all wounded. There are now living three in my own county in Missouri, one in the eastern part of the State, one in Kentucky, one in Alabama, and one in California.
- Confederate Veteran, Vol. 12, December 1913, page 582