Pug, Tug and Me: ...and Don't Forget Patsye Sue

By Don Davidson

They were born in the 1920's. They grew up in the 1930's during the
Great Depression. They went to war in the 1940's. They served in the
armed forces during World War II. They became part of what is now
known as the Greatest Generation.

This account shares their ancestry, life stories and many experiences that
shaped their destinies as members of the Greatest Generation. There's
more truth than fiction in these accounts of their lives. It's a some what
fictionalized account of true stories about two cousins, their best friend,
and their distant cousin, a knock-kneed freckled-face kid of a girl, and their
families. It's also about some of their ancestors and historical events that
helped shape their beings. Some is about their ancestral family lore. Some
is about their wartime experiences and the aftermath.

Their story provides an unblemished insightful awareness of the depth
of adversity and character of a generation whose final destiny now looms
on the ever closer horizon to soon be gone forever.
This is their story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781543985207

Book preview

Copyright © 2019 by Donald G. Davidson

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotation in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

First printing 2019

Print ISBN:978-1-54398-519-1

eBook ISBN: 978-1-54398-520-7

PUBLISHED BY:

BookBaby

7905 N. Crescent Blvd.

Pennsauken, NJ 08110

[e-mail]

Cover by Gilbert Sauceda

Photographs provided by the author

Do n Davidson writes in a conversational manner that makes you feel you are having a fireside chat with him. He’s got an interesting story to tell of growing up in the depression without electricity, and cooking and heating with wood stoves, to fighting in World War II, to raising a family, to living through the changes of America in the great middle class. You will laugh and you will cry, but you will be glad you had this fireside chat.

John Brieden, former National Commander

AMERICAN LEGION

Contents

DISCLAIMER

ACKNOWLEGEMENT

DEDICATED TO

PROLOGUE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

EPILOGUE

DISCLAIMER

Th is is a fictionalized account of imagined and actual events. Any names of characters, businesses or places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

ACKNOWLEGEMENT

I w ish to acknowledge with heartfelt affection my son, Rev. Gregory S. Davidson, and his wife, Donna, for their loving time, effort and technical expertise without which this would not be possible. I also wish to acknowledge Gilbert Sauceda, a friend, for his dedicated production expertise and cover work, and Ken French for his expert editing. Also, Matthew Idler, editorial adviser, for his patience and guidance to bring this to fruition.

DEDICATED TO

My Dear Wife

Patricia Sue

PROLOGUE

Tw o years before my dear wife died I asked her what I should do with all the stories, family history, letters, diaries, genealogy, etc., I had collected over the many years. True to her tradition she had a simple answer, Silly boy, write a book. As I often was wont to do, I paid little heed to her suggestion.

When she suddenly died I was so distraught the next several months I was not fully functional. Sixty-five years of wonderful marriage and those delightful childhood years together were not easily given up. A year later and I began to gather my wits and try to resume a somewhat normal life.

For the first time I read the diary she kept all through our childhood years until I went into the navy. I then began to think about her suggestion. Why not? So I undertook this task to share our ancestry, life stories and many experiences that shaped our destinies as members of the Greatest Generation.

There is more truth than fiction in these accounts of our lives. It’s my best recollection of events as they occurred and as some were told to me. I purposefully made some changes to keep an element of anonymity. Names of people and places are somewhat changed. My dearly departed father once said, A story ain‘t worth telling if it ain’t worth embellishing. I’ve tried to keep embellishment to a minimum though some has covertly crept in.

THIS IS OUR STORY.

- Don Davidson

2019

Chapter 1

Pu g and Tug--they were the best of friends . . . and at times, the worst of friends. They were first cousins. Their fathers were brothers. They shared the same last name, Cahill. I was their best friend. They were born the same cold December day, early in the morning before daylight. Both mothers had difficult at home births and were in poor health. Old Doc Tribble didn’t show up at either household until several days later after being summoned by Tug’s father.

After two days, Tug’s mother noticed little Tug wasn’t urinating. She used a needle to pierce whatever of his foreskin was blocking the flow. Meantime, Tug’s father had gone to fetch Old Doc Tribble. When he arrived in his Model-T Ford coupe, he took a close look at little Tug. He took a pocketknife out of his pocket and lighted a match to sterilize the blade. He said the baby didn’t need all that and proceeded to circumcise little Tug. Pug wasn’t. Over the years this became one of the several matters of contention between the two boys.

Both mothers were so weak and sickly they were unable to produce enough milk to sustain their newborn babies. After examining both mothers, Old Doc Tribble drove up the road a mile and a half to where a middle-aged Negro couple, Jud and Vase, lived. Vase was a large stout woman with a large bosom. She already had grown children when she unexpectedly gave birth to a ‘late-in-life’ child. She had been nursing him when at three months he suddenly died for no apparent reason.

Old Doc Tribble knew that happened only five days ago. So, he brought Vase to baby Tug’s household where she nursed him. Old Doc was back that afternoon with baby Pug. Vase nursed and cared for both boys the next two years or so. She and her husband, Jud, were considered part of the family.

Pug and Tug constantly argued about which was the oldest. They were almost opposites in stature. Tug was tallish and slim. Pug was short and stocky. Tug had long dark hair and combed it swept back on the sides. Pug was a towhead and looked like he seldom combed his hair. Tug had brown eyes. Pug had blue eyes.

Their families were close and lived on a farm across the river from each other. Their ancestor who first landed in The Colonies was an enforced emigrant sent from Ireland to America in 1769 at age sixteen. He landed at Philadelphia as an indentured servant.

A year later he disappeared. Months later he showed up in North Carolina a free man. At the outbreak of hostilities with the British he became a volunteer Revolutionist. He had no love for the British. He was injured at the Battle of Cowan’s Ford on the Catawba River in North Carolina.

It was February 1781. It had been raining. The river was running deeper than normal. It usually was less than knee-deep at the ford. But, this day it was waist-deep and more in places. It would be a difficult crossing for Cornwallis as he and his troops swept through the Carolinas as a show of force against the so-called traitors.

The American Revolutionists decided to make a stand against Cornwallis and his four thousand troops as he attempted to cross the river. The Revolutionists deployed along the north bank behind trees, large stones, or whatever cover they could devise. They were only four hundred strong.

Cornwallis detested the unprofessional backwoods volunteers. He regarded them as cowards because they never made a show of force to battle the British in an open field. The Revolutionists weren’t stupid. They could count. They concealed themselves behind trees, rocks and whatever else was handy. They took pot shots at whatever British soldier crossed their sights. They especially relished the opportunity to take pot shots at the British officers all of whom wore highly distinguishing uniforms.

Cornwallis set up a double line of marksmen along the south bank. They did rapid fire across the river as a line of British solders waded into the river. Pug and Tug’s ancestor was near the edge of the water. He was hit in the left side with a musket ball that passed all the way through. He knew he had to get away as quickly as possible. He purposefully fell into the rushing water of the river and floated downstream about a mile. He managed to make his way into the eddy of a small tributary that flowed into the river. It was hung over with a heavy growth of willow trees and brush offering cover from the marauding British.

He lay low in the water the rest of the day so not to draw the attention of the British. That evening he made his way onto a small sandbar under the willows. The next morning he became concerned he would get gangrene in his wound. He removed the boot knife he always carried and fashioned a small willow stick. He removed a silk kerchief he always wore and tied it to the willow stick. He continuously passed the stick with the kerchief through the wound to cleanse it. He did this almost endlessly to minimize infection.

He didn’t dare reveal himself because the countryside was swarming with British troops trying to round up as many of the enemy traitors as they could.

The third day he knew he was weak from lack of food and loss of blood. He knew he had to get help. He knew of a family about half a mile away sympathetic to the Revolutionary cause. Everyone did not favor the cause.

After dark he made his way to their house. About midnight he knocked on the door. It was cautiously opened. They took him in and tended his wound. They hid him under the floorboards of the house several days until they felt secure the British had moved on. He remained with them several weeks. They took take care of his wound and helped him regain his strength until his wound healed. He left and rejoined the fight for the cause.

He lived to age eighty, had two wives and ten children. One of his sons moved to Tennessee and became a tobacco and cotton farmer and a slaveholder. This son’s youngest son, William, served the Confederacy during the Civil War. William was Pug and Tug’s great grandfather.

William enlisted May 1861 at age seventeen as a private in the 5th Regiment, Tennessee Infantry. He was promoted to First Lieutenant December 1861. He served as aide-de-camp to General Patton Anderson, Brigadier-General, Army of the Mississippi, at the Battle of Pittsburg Landing, also known as Shiloh, in Tennessee. As aide-de-camp, William was constantly at the general’s side, except when absent by his orders.

William

William often dashed on horseback to carry orders from the general to his field commanders during the heat of battle. While engaged in this and passing from one position of the field to another William made several narrow escapes under heavy fire to reach his point of destination.

One such occasion General Anderson dispatched William to the rear to order up an artillery battery. The general subsequently withdrew the infantry a short distance to a better shelter. There the artillery gained a favorable position before William had time to deliver the order. The Rebel artillery immediately opened fire on the enemy.

Meanwhile, William had to take a circuitous route to avoid Union troops. However, he was detected by a small detachment of Union cavalry, which took up a hot pursuit. A frequent tactic was to intercept dispatch riders to confiscate the written orders, thus gain knowledge of the enemy’s action.

William spurred his horse and rode frantically over hills and through the woods. He rode to the barn of a house whose occupants were known to be sympathetic to the Confederacy. He dismounted, slapped his horse on the backside and sent him running into the woods. He made a mad dash to the back door of the house. The rather large matronly lady of the house let him in.

William asked if there was someplace where he could hide. They looked out a window and saw a detachment of Union troops riding up the front driveway. There was precious little time to hide William. The lady beckoned him to her side next to the front door. She grabbed him by the head of the hair, jerked him down, pushed him under her full hoop skirt, and commanded, Don’t move!

She stood next to the door and let the Union officer and some of his troops in. They searched the house. Others searched the barn and grounds while all this time she stood next to the door. Satisfied the Confederate soldier was not there the Unionists left. The lady of the house booted William from under her skirt and told him to scat. William scoured the woods and found his horse. He mounted and continued to his destination, though slightly delayed.

William served in several other battles. He surrendered April 1865 at Smithfield, North Carolina. Thus, he began the long trudge back home to Tennessee despondent but feeling lucky to have survived the war. Home though was not like it was when he left.

Reconstruction was meant to punish those who served the Confederacy. The aftermath of the Civil War and Reconstruction wreaked havoc on and totally devastated many Southern families. William’s family was no exception. Two of his older brothers also served in the Confederate Army. One died at the Camp Sumter military prison at Andersonville, Georgia. The other one was seriously wounded and lost his right arm.

William’s father had been a tobacco and cotton farmer. The home place was totally destroyed by fire set by the Unionists. The home had been a pleasant and comfortable two-story house with fireplaces in each end and an all brick colonial walk-in cooking fireplace with a warmer cove in the kitchen.

The barns and sheds were burned to the ground. The Unionists confiscated the horses and mules. The cattle were slaughtered to feed the Union soldiers. The family was living in makeshift squatter hovels. Most of the few slaves were gone. Two slave families with children stayed on because they had no other place to go. They were all living together. Jud was the descendant of one of those slave families.

The 14th Amendment was written and passed (without the Southern white vote) to specifically punish persons who served in the Confederate military or served the Confederate government in any capacity. Instead of Lincoln’s concept of with malice toward none, with charity for all, these men were disenfranchised from voting or holding any public office until such time as the Federal government officially paroled them. That was a long tedious process often taking five to ten years in many instances.

During this time, William killed a man in a public altercation. It concerned the manner by which penalties were handled under harsh Reconstruction regulations imposed on former members of the Confederacy. The man was a Unionist sympathizer and cooperated with the Union during the war. The Federals appointed him as a regulator (enforcer) for compliance with Reconstruction rules and regulations. He was overly impressed with himself and his newfound authority.

William and a fellow Confederate ex-soldier worked all week to fell several large white oak trees. They cut, sawed, and shaped the wood into stakes to earn a little money. They were unloading the stakes onto a railroad flat car for shipment to a barrel manufacturer to make staves for barrels to store and age bourbon whiskey.

The enforcer guy arrived and told them they had to stop off-loading until they paid a transport fee. William and friend had no money. A fierce argument ensued. Suddenly, the guy attacked William wielding a large knife. William had a stake in hand. He had little time to defend himself. He struck the man in the side of the head with the stake (a little bigger than a baseball bat) killing him. William was tried and exonerated by reason of self-defense. The enforcer’s family refused to accept the verdict and vowed revenge.

William’s family decided to flee the aftermath of the war and move west to put the past behind them and start life anew. They also wanted to avoid any further consequences from the altercation and trial.

They sold their land at a reduced price. They used what little resource they realized to purchase a wagon, team of mules, and supplies. Thus, began their trek west. One of the remaining slave families moved with them. Jud was the grandson of that slave family.

Chapter 2

Pu g and Tug’s fathers were sharecroppers well known in the community as hard workers. Talk among others in the community was they were Keepers of the Ten Commandments . . . and anything else they could lay their hands on. They mutually tilled the soil on a parcel of land consisting of one thousand and eighty-three acres owned by Oscar Metcalf. It was mostly tree covered rocky hills except for the Big Bottom and the Little Bottom alongside the river.

The offspring all helped till the soil and harvest the crops. The work ethic was deeply engrained. They worked hard. They played hard.

Each family had four boys and one girl. Pug and Tug each were third born with two older brothers. Their younger sisters were Joy Mae and Estelle, respectively. Each had younger brothers, Sam and Jake, respectively. Patsye Sue was a distant cousin. She lived with Tug’s family. She was a scrawny, freckle-faced, knock-kneed wisp of a kid. She was orphaned at a very early age. Her grandmother was a sister to Pug and Tug’s grandfather.

Tug’s great grandmother on his mother’s side lived with them. Her name was Lugaine. She was elderly but feisty. One day when I was at Tug’s house to play she was standing on the back porch where a water bucket and dipper were kept. Tug sassed her. She dipped up a dipper full of water and threw it in his face, then demanded he apologize. He did.

Lugaine lived to age eighty-nine. I remember her funeral at Salem Church with Brother Sewell officiating. Her casket was on the back of a flatbed truck draped with a beautifully handcrafted quilt. It drove slowly to that little remote rural cemetery on the hill. We all walked behind the truck bearing the quilt-draped casket. She was quietly laid to rest. May God bless her with His Grace.

Lugaine was mostly Cherokee. Her mother was a full blooded Cherokee. Her father was half Cherokee and half Scot. Her mother was born on the Trail of Tears, a ten-year forced relocation by the United States Government to displace the Cherokees from their homeland in several southeastern states to an Indian Reservation a thousand miles away in what is now Oklahoma. Her father was a Methodist circuit rider. He was sent to north central Texas to bring The Word to the Indians and others alike. It was here Lugaine met Corneilous, the love of her life who was to become her husband.

Corneilous was born in Tennessee. His family left north central Tennessee and migrated to north central Texas when he was sixteen. The State of Texas was issuing land grants for hundreds of acres to those who would homestead and live on the land.

Corneilous and his older brother drove twenty head of cattle from Tennessee to Texas. They swam them across the Mississippi River and did not lose a single cow. They had never seen a river so big, but they saw it as just another obstacle to cross, only this one was much bigger.

Corneilous and his family were barely settled on their Texas land grant when the Civil War broke out. Many Texans joined the Confederate army bringing the flow of cattle north to a complete halt. Cattle left alone turned wild and mated at will.

When Corneilous was nineteen he rode his personal horse two hundred and sixty miles to rendezvous at a camp near what is now Hempstead, Texas. There he was mustered into the Texas 12th Cavalry as a private. His horse was named Maco Mano, a derivate of the Spanish words mucho mano, meaning good hand.

Corneilous participated in several battles. He sometimes served as a scout. He went ahead to seek out enemy positions and see how many were there. Twice he got too close and was almost captured, but managed to trick them and make his escape. In his unit he came to be known as The Tricker. Later it was shortened to Trick, a name that stayed with him the rest of his life.

Trick never officially surrendered to the Federals at the end of the war. The Federals were confiscating guns and horses from those that surrendered. No self-respecting Texan would ever give up his gun and horse. Trick and thirteen others made their way to Mexico rather than surrender. Parole was granted after a period of negotiation with the Federal authorities. It was agreed they could return to Texas and keep their guns and horses.

There was a huge beef shortage after the Civil War. It was vital to create a trail to drive the cattle from deep Texas to Missouri and eastern Kansas to meet the railroads. It was easier to drive cattle north than to get the railways to meet them in Texas. This way they got the beef to Chicago to be processed and sent east.

Trick and his friends were now on the north bank of the Rio Grand River in Texas. They were far from home with little wherewithal. By war’s end the longhorn cattle population grew so large they were virtually worthless in Texas, but worth $40 a head at the northern railheads. They decided to round up a herd of wild longhorns and drive them north to market. They pooled their few resources and purchased a wagon and team of mules.

Cattle drives weren’t exactly a novel proposition. In the early to mid-1800’s smaller herds of Texas cattle were driven up the difficult Shawnee Trail. The cattle passed near what is now Austin, Waco, and Fort Worth before they crossed Red River. From there branches of the Shawnee Trail led to Missouri and eastern Kansas. They headed north on the eastern part of Indian Territory that later became Oklahoma.

A series of Federal military forts across Indian Territory formed a line of demarcation reflecting the boundary between the nomadic tribes (Comanche and Cheyenne) to the west and the Five Civilized Tribes (Cherokee, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Seminole and Creek) to the east. This was known as the Shawnee Trail. After disastrous efforts to revive the pre-war Shawnee Trail from Texas to Missouri, cattlemen were given a new alternative . . . drive the cattle to a new railhead at Abilene in western Kansas.

The trail veered west from the old Shawnee Trail to become the Shawnee-Arbuckle Trail. It later became known as the Chisholm Trail. The trail passed near Fort Arbuckle, a better candidate for the migration of so many cattle.

Reviews for Pug, Tug and Me

[Sandra Kindt · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book moves quickly with story after story. It is a quick read and when you are done, you will have a greater appreciation of the Greatest Generation. I laughed out loud and cried but at the end was humble by what I found to be the point of the book. In my opinion it is Faith, Hope and Love. Love being the greatest and this author lived his life honoring all three!