One Wore Gray One Wore Blue: An Appalachian Grandmother’s Favorite Generals

By Highlander

After beginning his life in western Virginia on the south side of the Ohio River, Thomas Stonewall Jackson had no idea that one day he would wear gray while battling to defend his home state. As Ulysses S. Grant took his first breath in southern Ohio on the north side of the Ohio River, he also did not know of the life that would eventually unfold for him as he donned blue and fought to save the Union.

In a collection of historical folktales inspired by an Appalachian grandmother’s retelling of her own grandfather’s stories of the American Civil War, others are provided with a glimpse into the lives of Jackson and Grant from a different perspective. While growing up on opposite sides of the Ohio River, the folktales reveal how Jackson and Grant slowly transformed into military leaders who bravely guided their troops through a tumultuous time in American history.

One Wore Gray: One Wore Blue shares a grandmother’s retelling of the lives of two of the most significant generals of the Civil War who fought on opposite sides of the battlefield.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Aug 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665708982

Highlander

Highlander once lived among the coal fields of east Kentucky where he became aware of the hazards confronted by coal miners, and observed that many traveled US Route 23 to find safer, steadier work in factories. He is the author of One Wore Gray / One Wore Blue, and the grandson of immigrants from Ireland and Scotland who settled in Southwest Virginia.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

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ISBN: 978-1-6657-0897-5 (sc)

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Archway Publishing rev. date: 07/24/2021

CONTENTS

Grandmother’s Favorite Generals

Background

Storytelling Session One: Grandmother’s Favorite General to Wear the Gray

Out Standing in the Field

Rule Number One: Strive to Be All You Can Be

That Afternoon on the Drill Field

Into the Garden

Rule Number Two: Eat Not to Dullness. Drink Not to Elevation.

Come Saturday Morning

Rule Number Three Strive to Attain a Very Great Elevation of Character. Use No Hurtful Deceit. Think Innocently and Justly.

Sunday Afternoon

April 17, 1861: Virginia Votes to Leave Union, Joins Confederacy

Several Weeks Pass

Days Later Near the Border of Virginia and Maryland

Two A.M.

Six A.M.

Rule Number Four: Silence Is Golden When Avoiding Trifling Conversation

The Great Train Robbery

There’s a Horse on the Tracks

The Next Day

Weeks Later

On the Road to Manassas

Manassas

Manassas, Virginia—July 21, 1861

Rule Number Five: Through Life Let Your Principal Objective Be the Discharge of Duty

Months Pass

Moving On

Winchester

And the Race Is On

Christmas 1861

January 1862

Late January

February 1862

Kernstown: The Near Miss

New Market Area

May 1862

Luray Caverns

Front Royal

Strasburg

Around the Mountain

Early the Next Morning

Port Republic

Cross Keys Area

Back at Port Republic

Another Sunrise in the Valley

The Long Chains of Slavery

Stanley, Virginia

A Reporter’s Journal

Meeting under a Tree

The Battles for Richmond

Fredericksburg, Virginia

Rule Number Six: Be Frugal. Waste Nothing.

December 13, 1862

The Next Morning

Christmas Eve in Fredericksburg, 1862

Rule Number Seven: Friends—A Person Is Known by the Company He or She Keeps

Supper in Chancellorsville January 21, 1863

April 1863

A Few Days Later

Several Mornings Later

Guiney Station

Sunday Morning

Present-Day Georgia

Present-Day Lexington

Storytelling Session Two: Grandmother’s Favorite General to Wear Blue

Now Back to My Cobbler

The Maysville Stop

April 27, 1822

Ulysses at Fifteen

On the Road with Mary Lou (and Her Mother)

Ulysses at Sixteen

Paris, Kentucky

Ulysses at Seventeen

West Point in Autumn

West Point Graduation

White Haven

Down Mexico Way

Show Me Missouri

Crossing into Kentucky

On Down to Tennessee

Deep in Dixie

Grant Goes East to Chattanooga

And the Killing Goes On

The Fighting Continues

Will This Tunnel Thing Work?

Why, Oh Why, Did I Ever Leave Ohio?

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GRANDMOTHER’S FAVORITE GENERALS

Background

I really do believe it was my good fortune to have been born in a small east Kentucky town inhabited by descendants of English, Irish, German, and Scottish immigrants along with a smattering of other nationalities. The town, called Prestonsburg, is the seat of government for the County of Floyd. Geographically my hometown is situated in the Big Sandy Valley amid tree-covered mountains holding millions of tons of coal.

Much of what I came to learn about the history of Prestonsburg came from the stories my grandmother told me about the personalities and customs of people living in the Big Sandy Valley. One of my grandmother’s stories even included references to a Union colonel named James Garfield, who established his headquarters in a house situated on the banks of the Levisa Fork River. From that particular story, I learned that this Union colonel defeated a stronger Confederate force at a place called Middle Creek, thus securing Union access to our part of Kentucky.

My grandmother also told me stories about the Levisa Fork being an important transportation link between Prestonsburg and the larger cities located beyond the mountains of Appalachia. Grandmother talked about cargoes of coal and timber being floated down the Levisa Fork River to the Big Sandy River and eventually to the Ohio River. Once on the Ohio River, these cargoes from Floyd County had easy passage to major industrial centers like Pittsburgh and Louisville.

However, my grandmother also explained that heavy cargoes of coal and timber could be transported downriver only during the high-water season, which resulted in a drag on the local economy. The obvious need to break the dependence on the high-water season eventually brought about the construction of the railroad through Prestonsburg and the Big Sandy Valley. One of the experienced workers brought in from Virginia to help build the railroad just happened to be my grandmother’s father, which explains how my grandmother ended up in Prestonsburg.

My great-grandfather’s job with the railroad included blasting around or through certain mountains and laying tracks along the river for the rail line. Once the railroad was completed, my great-grandfather remained with the rail company, overseeing maintenance on the tracks and the engines. Once the tracks were in place, the railroad provided a much-needed boost to the east Kentucky economy by providing an efficient and dependable way to transport heavy cargoes from the valley. The railroad also introduced a dependable passenger service to places like Lexington in central Kentucky and to Huntington just across the border in West Virginia.

In all her stories about the Big Sandy Valley, my grandmother took great pride in pointing out that her father had helped build the railroad linking Prestonsburg to points beyond the Big Sandy Valley. On the downside, Grandmother also noted that the arrival of the railroad brought about a decrease in riverboat traffic on the Levisa Fork River. However, the Levisa Fork continued to make its presence felt by periodically flooding homes and businesses up and down the valley. I always suspected such flooding had something to do with my grandmother having her own house built on the hill some distance from the river and the downtown district.

When Grandmother talked about the hardship inflicted on families and businesses located in the flood region of the Levisa Fork, her facial expression reflected concern for those people. But when she got around to talking about the floodwaters eventually receding from the town, a slight smile appeared as she explained that the Levisa Fork flows north into the Big Sandy River and that the Big Sandy River flows north into the Ohio River.

It was usually at this point that my grandmother’s storytelling detoured long enough to tell me about how some folks in town took issue with a news story that appeared in the Prestonsburg Times. According to Grandmother, the Times asserted that the floodwater in downtown Prestonsburg would eventually recede and flow up to Paintsville and from there flow up to the Ohio River. Grandmother said that the newspaper account of floodwater flowing up from Prestonsburg would become a major point of discussion for folks who equated the word south with down and the word north with up.

It seems some people in Prestonsburg believe that one travels up, or north, to Cincinnati or down, or south, to Memphis. Therefore, it stands to reason that floodwater backed up in downtown Prestonsburg would flow down to Paintsville, not up as reported in the Times. Floodwaters could not possibly flow uphill to Paintsville and eventually uphill to the Ohio River. The newspaper account of floodwater flowing north or up to Paintsville was an error in reporting.

At that point, my grandmother’s smile widened as she explained that rivers flow from high elevations to lower elevations and that north and south are mere directions on a map that have nothing to do with the actual flow of water. On other occasions, when talking about the geography of east Kentucky, Grandmother included references to Daniel and Rebecca Boone leading hunting parties into the Big Sandy Valley to hunt bears and other wildlife. Grandmother especially liked talking about Rebecca’s hunting skills with the long rifle and said that Rebecca Boone was easily the best shot of all those in the hunting party, including Daniel. My grandmother’s stories included tales of Daniel being away from home on long scouting trips and leaving Rebecca with the responsibility of hunting game for the dinner table and defending the Boone home from intruders.

After telling me about Rebecca Boone’s skill with the long rifle, Grandmother inserted something of a side story in the form of a sermon about the partnership that should exist between men and women. Grandmother preached that women weren’t put on this earth to serve men. Rather, men and women must work side by side as partners to make the most of the journey through life. As a young kid, I was fascinated by my grandmother’s stories. Her stories were entertaining as well as educational.

Once I got enrolled in the Prestonsburg Elementary School and proceeded to advance from one grade to the next, my grandmother’s stories became more involved and covered topics such as the workings of government and how certain politicians got elected time after time by handing out twenty-dollar bills and pints of bourbon to members of certain family clans. She also talked about the role churches play in defining and upholding the moral standards of the community.

As I recall my grandmother’s stories, I now realize she was teaching me important lessons about life in general. Her stories instilled in me a sense of pride for both my family and my hometown. To this day I remember feeling a sense of community each time I rode my bike past the road sign posted at the end of town. That road sign identified Prestonsburg as an All Kentucky City with a population of 2,937 citizens. Knowing I was included in that population count made me feel even more connected to my hometown of Prestonsburg.

However, as I got older, that hometown connection gave way to a sense of adventure. As I progressed from the elementary grades into high school, I started to sense that I would be leaving Prestonsburg. After all, my two oldest brothers had already left home following graduation from high school. One brother went to college and enrolled in the army’s officer training program. The other brother went to Cincinnati and got a job working on the Ford assembly line. These older brothers leaving home in search of careers meant that Jason and Mary’s two oldest children were part of the great American migration out of rural Appalachia, which took place during the 1950s.

By leaving Prestonsburg following high school graduation, my two oldest brothers established a path out of the Big Sandy Valley that their younger brothers and sisters would follow. In due time a third brother entered the air force and got sent to England, while a sister got a job with a law firm in Lexington. Eventually, all Jason and Mary’s eighteen children left Prestonsburg following graduation from Prestonsburg High School. Fifteen attended college, two went directly into the military, and one got a job with Ford.

And as far as I know, not one of Jason and Mary’s eighteen children gave serious consideration to working in the coal mines of Floyd County. All of us were aware that our father’s health had been compromised as a result of working in coal mines and breathing in a lot of black coal dust. We were also aware that our father had lost a brother in a mine explosion, probably caused by inadequate safety precautions. Those two factors seemed to have motivated Jason and Mary to encourage their children to seek careers beyond the coalfields of Appalachia.

Now that I am well into my own life’s journey, I look back with a sense of wonderment on the experiences and challenges that filled my first eighteen years of life in Prestonsburg. To this day, I remain thankful that it was my good fortune to be part of a family that included seventeen brothers and sisters, two dedicated parents, and many supportive uncles, aunts, cousins, and grandparents. I also appreciate having been part of a community of mostly good people who seemed to care about what everyone else in town was up to. And while all eighteen of Jason and Mary’s children grew up and ventured beyond the mountains, I believe we all left with a sense of pride that came from growing up in that family and living among the mostly good people of that small town.

However, I must admit that being part of a large family and living in a small town did, on more than one occasion, attract some unsolicited public notice. For instance, I was surprised upon entering Mr. Woods’s world history class as a high school sophomore that Mr. Woods gave me the once up and down and inquired whether I was another Stuart. I replied in the affirmative that I did answer to the name Stuart. Mr. Woods then asked whether I was as smart as my older brothers and sisters, who had taken his class in prior years. I told him I didn’t know the answer to that question, in that I had never given it any thought whatsoever. Mr. Woods nodded his approval and motioned for me to take a seat next to a pretty girl with a nice smile. I did as instructed, and the girl who introduced herself as Mary Loretta greeted me by saying, Are you really another Stuart?

As I opened my world history textbook, I replied, Hello, Mary Loretta. I really am one of the Stuart clan. From that first day in world history on, Mary Loretta addressed me as only another Stuart.

Now, as far as being smart, let’s just say I learned that life around the Mediterranean Sea in the days of Julius, Alexander, and Cleopatra was almost as interesting as life along the border between Kentucky and West Virginia during the time the Hatfield clan got all tangled up in that feud with the McCoy clan. And should you be curious about the grade I received in world history, I can tell you with certainty that the grade recorded on my report card was pretty much in line with the degree of effort I put forth.

Following my sophomore year as a Prestonsburg High School Black Cat, I got a summer job at Rose’s Drugstore in downtown Prestonsburg, while Mary Loretta moved to Louisville, where her father got a job making baseball bats. I never saw her again. To this day, I can’t say with any degree of confidence that Mary Loretta knows I go by the name Jacob.

Mr. Woods shared some very interesting stories about the world in which we live. And while he devoted most of his time talking about the Greeks, the Romans, and the English, he also shared interesting facts and stories about the history of the Big Sandy Valley. However, as I have already noted, it was my grandmother who did the most to sharpen my awareness of those who had wandered the hills of the Big Sandy Valley long before I made my entrance onto the world stage.

I treasure the fond memories I have of hiking across a couple of hills to visit my grandmother and being treated to a story about the important role her home state of Virginia played in the history of our nation. From those storytelling sessions, I learned that my grandmother had grown up on a small tobacco farm near the town of Abingdon, Virginia, where she was often treated to one of her grandfather’s stories. While my grandmother liked living in Kentucky, she beamed with a special pride when she talked about being a native of Virginia.

Not only was my grandmother blessed with a vivid imagination, but she also had a real talent for weaving specific facts into interesting stories about historical events and personalities. Drawing on her examples of storytelling, I have attempted to weave several of her storytelling sessions into expanded folktales about her two favorite generals. These two generals fought on opposite sides of that great national conflict my grandmother referred to as the South’s second war for independence.

The main character in the first composite of folktales is based on the Confederate general popularly known as Stonewall Jackson. Jackson grew up on the southern side of the Ohio Valley in the western part of Virginia and was my grandmother’s favorite Southern general due in part to the fact that he was a native of Virginia as well as a man of unwavering faith. The main character in the second composite of folktales is the Union general Ulysses S. Grant, who was given the name Hiram Ulysses Grant at birth.

When my grandmother was about to spin a tale about Hiram Ulysses, she noted that the lad, through no fault of his own, spent his first eighteen years of life on the northern side of the Ohio Valley. Mama—that’s what people around town called my grandmother—was convinced that the outcome of the American Civil War was destined to be determined by these two generals, who grew up believing in the same God. Mama explained that both generals were honorable men, who just happened to approach that great national conflict from different vantage points.

Over the years since Grandmother was called to heaven, I have come to two overarching conclusions regarding her storytelling. First, Grandmother was firm in her belief that the nation was saved by General Grant’s defeat of General Lee and his Southern army. Second, Grandmother was equally convinced that had General Jackson lived, the South would have won its second war for independence.

Confronted by these two deeply conflicting beliefs, Grandmother came to conclude that the early death of Stonewall Jackson from friendly fire had been God’s way of clearing the path for Grant’s victory over General Lee. Grandmother told me that General Lee never lost a battle when General Stonewall Jackson was by his side. Grandmother believed that Stonewall Jackson’s early death from friendly fire removed the possibility that General Jackson and General Grant would face one another on the battlefield. By calling General Jackson to heaven at a young age, the Almighty set the stage for the North not only to win the war but also to end slavery. Grandmother also noted that history tells us that the war officially ended when General Lee met General Grant inside a small farmhouse in her home state of Virginia to discuss the details of Lee’s surrender.

With Jackson gone from the scene, subsequent Union victories achieved under General Grant’s leadership made it more probable that President Lincoln would be elected to a second term and thus save the Union. Grandmother also shared her personal observation that Thomas J. Jackson, Hiram Ulysses Grant, as well as President Lincoln were ordinary individuals born of common parents, who lived long enough to help bring about some great outcomes.

As I hiked across the two hills to my grandmother’s house, I pretty much knew I would be treated to another story about one of her favorite generals. Early on, I learned that my grandmother was setting the stage for a story about Tom Jackson when she started dropping hints about the hard life many families had endured in that part of rural Virginia, now known as West Virginia.

Grandmother casually mentioned that young Tom Jackson had suffered the loss of both parents and eventually ended up living with a bachelor uncle, performing various farm chores. In between doing chores on the farm, the young Tom Jackson used whatever free time he had to take advantage of the limited education opportunities available in Clarksburg. The limited opportunity for learning in Clarksburg led to additional hardship at West Point, in that it was a struggle for Tom Jackson to keep up with class assignments.

Grandmother pointed out that academic deficiencies resulting from limited learning opportunities in Clarksburg were further compounded by Tom Jackson’s poor eyesight. His eye problem led the young Tom Jackson to avoid reading after dark. In all her stories about the young man who became known as Stonewall, Grandmother stressed the courageous manner in which Jackson overcame his personal challenges, the honorable manner in which he conducted himself as a West Point cadet, and his heroic conduct while a soldier in the war with Mexico. Grandmother also noted the strength of character Tom Jackson later displayed as a professor at the Virginia Military Institute (VMI) and as a defender of his home state from the Northern invasion. And it was Grandmother who first told me that Thomas Jackson became known as Stonewall Jackson in recognition of the leadership he exhibited during the First Battle of Manassas.

Grandmother was further intrigued with Tom Jackson’s ventures beyond teaching at VMI, which included serving on the board of a local bank and managing a farm located on the outskirts of Lexington. Neither did it escape my grandmother’s attention that Jackson served as a deacon in the Presbyterian church and that he started a Sunday school for the coloreds living around Lexington. Two important supporting characters in my grandmother’s stories about Jackson were Jeb Stuart and a slave named Jim. The merging paths of Tom Jackson, Jeb Stuart, and the slave named Jim were important storylines concerning the role Stonewall Jackson played in the South’s second war for independence.

Some of you may be wondering how I became so wrapped up in my grandmother’s storytelling. As I ponder that matter, a couple of family situations that occurred over a decade come to mind. First, in each year of that decade, a new baby seemed to magically appear in our house. The more or less annual arrival of a new baby became such a common event that it seems I would leave for elementary school in the morning and return in the afternoon to be introduced to a new brother or sister. These annual arrivals meant that our house, which wasn’t large, became a rather busy center of life over the span of that one decade. Second, over that same span of time, my body seemed to explode in new ways, which in turn brought about a greater craving for food than was available at the kitchen table. Thus, as the number of brothers and sisters gathered around the kitchen table increased, the probability of getting a second or third refill decreased. And while the annual arrival of another brother or sister was indeed a blessed event, each arrival eventually resulted in smaller portions of oatmeal and toast at breakfast, fewer peanut butter and jelly sandwiches during the day, and limited macaroni and tuna at suppertime.

The convergence of these two events—the annual arrival of a new baby and the sudden elongation of my body—motivated me to hike across two hills to my grandmother’s house in search of more food. Being the smart woman that she was, Grandmother knew that while I did enjoy her company, I enjoyed her cooking even more. So, in exchange for feeding me, Grandmother had me run errands to the post office to buy stamps, to the Bank Josephine to deposit checks, or to Kroger’s for groceries. Grandmother loved Kroger’s freshly ground coffee. However, the real reason my grandmother was willing to feed me was that I was a good listener for her storytelling. It took only sharing a few meals with my grandmother for me to realize that when Grandmother turned off the radio after listening to her favorite program, called Queen for a Day, that I was going to be enlightened with another of her stories.

Having turned the radio off, Grandmother rearranged the pillows in her chair while motioning for me to take a seat on the sofa across from her. Once I was seated on the sofa, Grandmother told me a story about what her life had been like while growing up near the town of Abingdon in southwest Virginia. To this day I marvel at how my grandmother could make me feel as though I had been transported back to an earlier time. She seemed to have had an unlimited number of stories to share about her life in Virginia, about the lives of historical characters who lived in Virginia during the two struggles for independence, and about life in the Big Sandy Valley. I remember these storytelling sessions as good times.

My grandmother liked telling stories about people who were born or lived in her native state of Virginia. So she really liked talking about Thomas J. Jackson. Grandmother believed important life lessons could be gained by examining the manner in which this unique individual confronted and endured many hardships as a lad growing up in rural Appalachia. Grandmother took great care to explain that, as a young boy, Tom Jackson had to overcome the loss of both parents, the burden of having received only the bare basics of an education in Clarksburg, and his struggle to remain at West Point due to the lack of a proper education.

Following graduation from West Point, a young Tom Jackson found himself in Mexico fighting in a war he considered to be immoral. He served with distinction in Mexico. He eventually gave up his army commission to accept the appointment as a professor at the Virginia Military Institute. And when Virginia voted to secede from the Union, Jackson made use of his military experience to help defend Virginia against the invaders from the North. I pretty much knew when Grandmother was about to spin another story about him.

Depending on the season of the year, she asked whether I cared for a cup of hot chocolate or a glass of lemonade. Then, as I drank whatever beverage happened to be in season, Grandmother reviewed some basic facts that formed the framework of all her stories about Tom Jackson. For example, Grandmother expected me to remember from previous storytelling sessions that Jackson had been born in western Virginia in 1824 near the town of Clarksburg. After I recited his date and place of birth, Grandmother added that he had been born to independent-minded parents of Scotch and Irish descent and that most people around Clarksburg were of the independent persuasion.

It seems that the folks in the far corners of western Virginia were so much of the independent mind that they couldn’t go along with the rest of the commonwealth when Virginia voted to leave the Union in 1861. According to Grandmother, the plan was for Virginia to join several other Southern states in the formation of a new nation called the Confederate States of America with Richmond as the center of the new government. However, the good people around Clarksburg believed in the Union so strongly that the northwestern part of the state eventually broke away in 1863 and formed the new state of West Virginia.

Grandmother said the people of rural western Virginia wanted no part in dissolving the nation, which earlier generations of Virginians had struggled to create. My grandmother knew in her heart that her heroes of the American Revolution, including George Washington, Patrick Henry, Alexander Hamilton, and her own ancestors, would have had nothing to do with this so-called second war of independence. Grandmother believed that, despite all the different beliefs people of the North, South, and West held about the future, nothing justified the dissolution of the Union. Thus, in the middle of the Civil War, the western part of Virginia broke away from the commonwealth of Virginia to become another border state separating the hostile forces of the North and South.

Included in the prelude to most stories about young Tom Jackson, Grandmother commented on the untimely death of his parents and the fact that he and his sister, Laura, were passed from one relative to another while an older brother was sent to live with relatives some distance beyond Clarksville. Eventually, Tom and Laura were also separated. Tom moved in with his father’s bachelor brother, Cummins Jackson, while Laura went to live with other relatives, who could provide a more proper home for a young girl.

So young Tom Jackson moved in with Uncle Cummins and devoted much of his time to doing chores on the farm, catching fish for supper, and cutting and selling firewood to supplement the household income. But however difficult Tom’s life became as a result of living with Uncle Cummins, he still made time to take advantage of what schooling was available in rural western Virginia in the 1830s. Young Tom Jackson considered a formal education as preparation for the day when he would be on his own. Regardless of how many chores he was expected to perform, he appreciated the simple fact that his Uncle Cummins had provided him with a home.

Tom’s willingness to work, coupled with his desire for an education, didn’t go unnoticed. People around Clarksburg who knew Tom’s family situation held him in high regard as someone who was both dependable and trustworthy. By earning the respect of the people of Clarksburg, Tom was hired, while only a teenager, to teach younger children the basics of reading and working with numbers. Then at age sixteen, Tom was appointed constable of Lewis County, a position that required him to assist the traveling judge with court duties. Later, when Tom was about to turn eighteen, he sought and received an appointment to West Point. Tom regarded West Point as an opportunity to further his formal education and to experience life beyond the mountains of western Virginia.

With so many of my grandmother’s stories focusing on Tom Jackson’s life as a military creature, it is understandable that she would talk about the adventures of the young West Point cadet, who soon found himself in Mexico after graduation. Fighting in Mexico forced the new Lieutenant Jackson to come to terms with the stark reality that Mexican soldiers were actually shooting at him. However, the unpleasant reality of being a target of Mexican soldiers came to be balanced with the opportunity to interact with some extraordinary citizens of Mexico. Having the opportunity to interact with the good people of Mexico, Tom Jackson became more convinced that the United States was engaged in a war that was both unjustified and evil. The young army officer, fresh from West Point, came to believe that the American war with Mexico was nothing more than a brazen land grab.

The United States wanted all the territories stretching from the Louisiana Purchase to the Pacific Ocean to be under US control. Simply stated, President Polk wanted all land from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean to be available to plantation owners for the growing of cotton. While President Polk believed there was divine justification for the war with Mexico, Jackson came to understand that more land for growing cotton really meant slavery would be extended into the territories of Arizona, New Mexico, California, and Texas. President Polk further claimed that the war with Mexico had to be fought to establish the Rio Grande River as the southern border between Mexico and the United States.

While serving in Mexico, the young Lieutenant Jackson came to realize that the government in Washington, DC, chose to ignore the simple fact that much of the land about to be conquered by the United States was already inhabited by citizens from south of the border as well as by various Indian tribes. These inhabitants didn’t seem to matter to President Polk and his political allies. However, one young congressman from Illinois did oppose war with Mexico, which probably had something to do with Representative Lincoln losing his bid for a second term in the US Congress.

Even though Tom Jackson believed the war with Mexico to be unjust, he did his duty as a soldier and served with high distinction while rising to the battlefield rank of major. As the war went on, young Jackson became aware of the actions of other American officers including Captain Bobby Lee and Lieutenant U. S. Grant. He also got to know many of the citizens of Mexico, which led to an appreciation for their culture. Jackson held the Mexican people in such high regard that he considered moving to Mexico following his military obligation.

During his stay in Mexico as an officer in the US Army, young Tom Jackson observed Sunday as a day of worship and tried to avoid military-related activities on that holy day. Jackson even spent many of his Sundays in Mexico, attending Catholic services alongside local citizens. These Catholic services impressed him so profoundly that he considered adopting the Catholic faith as his own. However, he was eventually transferred back to the United States and through further consideration of the matter of religion became a Presbyterian.

When the war with Mexico came to a close, Jackson went on to serve the army at posts in New York and Florida, where he further developed practical applications of the military concepts he had learned at West Point. It was while serving in Florida that Jackson received what would now be classified as advanced military training. From scouting and observing the battlefield tactics of the Seminole Indians, Jackson believed it was noteworthy that the Seminoles managed to never be conquered by a much larger American military force. Ultimately, the Americans and the Seminole Indians learned to coexist out of necessity and learned to respect one another.

On a completely different front, the tour of duty in Florida also presented Jackson with a moral dilemma of having to deal with a fellow army officer’s personal behavior. It seems that Jackson was most disturbed when he witnessed the officer in question engaging in behavior that Jackson could only describe as adultery, a sin. Jackson’s first instinct was to give the officer the benefit of the doubt and ignore the incident. However, the disturbing behavior continued and reached the breaking point when Jackson happened to witness this married officer running his hand along the bare skin of the woman’s ankle. After observing such action, Jackson could no longer ignore the officer’s behavior and reported the immoral actions to the commanding officer.

Needless to say, the relationship between Jackson and the immoral officer, who slightly outranked Jackson, became strained and probably contributed to Jackson’s decision to accept a faculty position at the relatively new Virginia Military Institute. Jackson’s move to Lexington to become a teacher of young cadets was one of my grandmother’s favorite topics. Noting that the people of Lexington were already accustomed to seeing professors and students from Washington College walking along the streets of their town, they probably assumed the new Virginia Military Institute simply meant there would be even more students and faculty members in their midst. In other words, interacting with more faculty and students around town wasn’t a big deal to most citizens of Lexington. However, the locals of Lexington seemed to be caught off guard with the arrival of one Thomas J. Jackson.

While the people of this small town were aware that the major had served with distinction in Mexico, they soon learned that Jackson was a man of honor who was devoted to duty. And they came to realize that Jackson was a man of strong religious beliefs while observing that he exhibited some strange habits. Even the cadets enrolled at the Virginia Military Institute had to come to terms with Professor Jackson’s uninspired classroom performances. These cadets, who were on a path to military leadership, considered Jackson as more than a little boring. It seems Professor Jackson’s memorized lectures about topics like optics that fell on the ears of uninterested cadets and led some of them to refer to Professor Jackson as Tom Fool.

To many young cadets, Jackson’s rigid personality and overly structured classroom management style left much to be admired. But on the drill field, these same cadets generally considered Professor Jackson to be an inspired leader as he brought to life the battlefield maneuvers of Napoleon and other war heroes. Thus it is probably safe to assume that some citizens of Lexington came to openly wonder why the Virginia Military Institute would hire someone who routinely exhibited what could only be described as odd behavior. Many local citizens had difficulty relating to a man they observed walking through town at a brisk pace while performing strange stretching exercises. Such citizens could only conclude that such behavior was odd even for a professor at a military institute.

For instance, some people in town stared in disbelief when Professor Jackson paused during his walks to push against a nearby tree. One prominent citizen, who happened to be following Jackson, concluded that the professor had mistaken the tree for a bear and was determined to wrestle it to the ground. However, others in town set their timepieces and clocks by his arrival. They learned that Jackson walked past their homes or businesses at the exact same time each day. But one activity that confounded most people around Lexington was the way Jackson extended one or both arms over his head as he walked among them. Some thought Jackson was praying to God. Others thought he was off his rocker.

As time passed, Tom Jackson settled into life as a college professor and came to experience both great joy and extreme sadness. After being in Lexington for a short period, he met and fell in love with a young woman named Eleanor Jenkins, who happened to be the daughter of the president of Washington College. Since the Washington College campus is located next door to the VMI campus, it was inevitable that the paths of Tom Jackson and Eleanor Jenkins would cross.

As they got to know one another, Tom and Eleanor engaged in a proper courtship and then became husband and wife. The couple enjoyed their lives together and routinely explored the surrounding Shenandoah Valley. And with the passage of more time, the young couple greatly anticipated the birth of their first child, which unfortunately ended as another tragedy for Tom Jackson. Both Eleanor and a baby girl died during childbirth.

This double tragedy hit Jackson especially hard and brought back many painful childhood memories involving the deaths of his parents. The loss of Eleanor and the baby may have contributed to Jackson’s believing even more strongly that some things are destined to happen as part of God’s plan for the world. With the loss of both his beloved wife and daughter, he devoted more time to church activities and eventually became a deacon in the Presbyterian church.

When my grandmother talked about this phase of Jackson’s life, she noted that Jackson continued to observe the Sabbath as a holy day and refrained from doing anything work related on Sunday. He became even more devoted to the teachings of Jesus and thus often went out of his way to acknowledge those less fortunate than himself. Professor Jackson displayed a gentle passion for the people of Lexington, regardless of their social status. Jackson’s compassion for the human spirit compelled him to do something many people of Lexington considered to be radical behavior. He started a Sunday school for slaves.

From the outset, many white citizens of Lexington were concerned about seeing large numbers of slaves gathered at the Presbyterian church. There were those who feared these gatherings would lead to the slaves organizing and initiating a slave revolt. Some church members also did not approve of slave services being held at their church, even though they were held after the regular service for white church members had ended. Jackson’s response to such resistance was that everyone was created by the same God and that everyone, regardless of skin color, had the right to worship the one and only God.

To fill the void from losing Eleanor and the baby, Jackson got on with his life as a citizen of Lexington, Virginia. Then after what seemed to have been an eternity to Jackson, Anna Morrison, whose father just happened to be a college president, came into Tom’s life. As the new Mrs. Jackson, Anna made Tom Jackson very happy on both a personal and spiritual level. Once the couple got settled in a house in Lexington, Tom resumed his teaching duties at the Virginia Military Institute, while Anna set about transforming the house they shared into a comfortable home for her husband and their extended family of five colored souls. Tom also continued to serve as a deacon in the Presbyterian church and stayed busy with various business ventures. Whenever his teaching schedule permitted, Tom and Anna often traveled the country and the world to experience different cultures, to visit historical sites, and to seek treatments at various health spas.

When Anna moved to Lexington from her home in North Carolina, she arrived with one of her father’s slaves, named Hetty, who had two young sons. In North Carolina, Hetty and her sons were slaves owned by Anna’s father, but in Lexington Hetty and her sons became members of the Jackson family. Tom had previously purchased the papers for a young, independent-minded colored man; an elderly colored woman; and a colored child, who struggled with a learning disability.

Grandmother explained that Jackson’s motive in purchasing the papers for these three coloreds was to provide them with a safe home and eventually a path to freedom. Except for the independent-minded man, named Albert, all the coloreds lived in the house with Tom and Anna. Tom had arranged for Albert to work at the local bank and to have his own place of residence.

As one season ended and another began, Tom Jackson believed he had been blessed to be sharing his life with Anna and their extended family. However, the good life Jackson enjoyed would change when the people of Virginia voted to leave