Images found on Civil War battlefields: Who were they?

On March 23, 1924, the Des Moines Register reported about the image a young woman
discovered by a Confederate soldier on the Winchester (Va.) battlefield.

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For decades, the tiny photograph of the unidentified young woman charmed — and mystified — scores of visitors to the old Museum of the Confederacy in Richmond, Va.

She stared straight ahead, her hair parted down the middle and smoothed behind the ears. A watch chain double looped around her neck — the shorter one included a heart-shaped charm. She wore a black ribbon on the crown of her head. For eye appeal, the photographic artist tinted the young lady’s lips and cheeks pink.

In late-summer 1864, a Rebel soldier plucked the image — a 1/16-plate tintype enclosed in a 1.5-x-2-inch case — as a souvenir from a fallen U.S. Army soldier on a Virginia battlefield. In the late 1890s, the veteran donated the photograph to the museum, the home of Jefferson Davis while he served as president of the Confederacy.

But who was she?

Image of  Georgiana (or Georgia Ann) Oxley Secrist
 of Marion, Iowa. It was found by a Rebel 
soldier on the Winchester (Va.) battlefield.
(The American Civil War Museum collection)

During an early 1920s visit to the museum, a couple from Cedar Rapids, Iowa recognized the photograph. Months later, they provided museum archivists with details. The brother of the young lady in the battlefield photograph supplied an early 20th-century image of his sister for comparison to the museum likeness. That evidence, along with snippets of information gleaned from the Confederate veteran, convinced museum authorities of the identity of the photograph.

The image that had long captivated museum visitors was of Georgiana (or Georgia Ann) Oxley Secrist of Marion, Iowa. The fallen soldier whom the Confederate snatched the image from was her fiancé, Albert Carmichael of the 24th Iowa, Company F. At the Battle of Winchester on Sept. 19, 1864, the 24-year-old private was mortally wounded by an artillery shell that also nearly severed the legs of another comrade, according to Georgiana’s brother, James Oxley, who also served in the regiment. Carmichael’s younger brother John — a private in the 24th Iowa, Company H — was mortally wounded in the same battle.

After the revelation, newspapers throughout the country published a long feature story about the discovery of the photograph’s subject and her long-dead fiancé. "Faded Portrait in Confederate Museum reveals Romance of Iowa Lovers," read one paper’s headline. "Old Picture of Civil War Days Breathes Pathos," read another.

Georgiana later in life
(Richmond Times-Dispatch,
March 23, 1924)

Secrist and Carmichael attended school together in a small, log structure in Iowa. She was the youngest of 10 children and four years younger than Carmichael. A romance blossomed. Albert continued the relationship while he attended Cornell College in Mount Vernon, Iowa. They intended to marry and settle on a farm. But the war spoiled those plans.

Eager to aid the Union, male students at Cornell College formed a company in the 24th Iowa. Before Albert Carmichael enlisted in the summer of 1862, Secrist handed him the tintype — an image taken when she was 15 and lived in Pennsylvania. They most likely maintained their relationship through letter writing, although none are known to exist.

War rocked Carmichael’s family as it did thousands of others. At the Battle of Champion Hill in Mississippi on May 16, 1863, Albert was severely wounded. While convalescing in a New Orleans hospital, he wrote a poem that appeared in James Oxley’s journal. It included this grim reflection of the war’s cruelty:

Oh, the glorious cheer of triumph

When the foemen turned and fled 

Leaving us the field of battle 

Strewn with dying and dead 

Oh, the waiting and anguish 

That I could not follow on

 So, amid my fallen comrades I must wait til morning’s dawn

At Winchester National Cemetery, John’s remains rest in section 76, under gravestone 3545. Albert’s final resting place, however, is unknown. In 1885, nearly two decades after Albert Carmichael’s death, Georgiana married Albert Secrist, an old family friend. In 1913, more than a decade before the photo revelation, she died in Iowa. “She was a good woman,” wrote an obituary writer. 

While fortuitous, the unmasking of the identity of the photograph was not unique. Early 20th-century U.S. newspapers published accounts of at least two other, similar photographic revelations.

An image found near a fallen soldier in Virginia

In spring 1908, nearly 45 years after a daguerreotype of a young man and a girl was found near a fallen Union soldier on another Virginia battlefield, Edgar Whritenour returned the photograph to one of the subjects, Ellen “Nellie” Stowe. The New Jersey mineral water manufacturer’s effort astonished the 63-year-old woman.

“My husband is glad that I am to get [my] picture back,” Stowe wrote Whritenour. “I had forgotten that my name was in the case. Do you not believe that this is one case in a thousand — a picture restored to the original owner after forty-five years?” 

After the Battle of Chancellorsville in early May 1863, a Confederate soldier had picked up the photograph off the body of a dead Union soldier lying on the battlefield. Later, the soldier gave it to a 13th New Jersey soldier to take back north. He in turn gave it to his daughter, who married Whritenour. She gave it to her husband.

In 1875, Whritenour began a dogged search to trace the origin of the image. The names "John Rawson and Nellie Augusta Nettleton" were written on the back of the case. Also in the case were a needle, a piece of thread, and a lock of hair.

Whritenour “communicated with every Grand Army of the Republic post in the country” until he finally located “Nellie” in Milford, Conn. Rawson, a 27th Connecticut private, was killed May 3, 1863, during a desperate rearguard action at Chancellorsville that decimated the regiment. In Army of Northern Virginia commander Robert E. Lee’s greatest victory, eight of the 27th Connecticut’s 10 companies became prisoners of war. For nearly 10 years after the battle, Rawson’s fate was unknown to Stowe, believed to be the soldier’s sweetheart.

“I wish I could make good to you all the expense you have gone to find the owner,” she wrote Whritenour, who sent the daguerreotype to Stowe after he received photographic confirmation of her identity. “I am thankful that this little bit of my life's history has been handed down to me over the silence of so many years, and I admire your perseverance under such almost insurmountable obstacles.”

A remarkable reunification

Five years after Whritenour’s search concluded, a veteran reunited another battlefield-found photograph with its subject.

In a battle near Williamsburg, Va., in 1862, William H. Dunham picked up a knapsack lying among bodies of fallen U.S. Army soldiers. Inside it he discovered a daguerreotype of a young woman along with the usual kit equipment and a fork engraved with the initials “R.C.” and “11th P.V.” After he mustered out in 1865, Dunham — a Massachusetts 5th Light Artillery private — returned home with the image and the inscribed utensil. For more than 50 years, he figured the knapsack and his war souvenirs belonged to a soldier with the initials “R.C.” in the 11th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry.

In 1913, the image was published in the New Bedford (Mass.) Sunday Times and a local resident, Rebecca Randall, found herself staring at her own photograph. Newspapers reported the photograph, knapsack, and utensil must have belonged to 7th Massachusetts Private Andrew Lawton, Randall’s friend, who was killed near Williamsburg, Va., on May 6, 1862. (How he acquired the engraved fork is unknown. A Massachusetts newspaper misidentified Lawton’s death site as the Wilderness.)

During an attack near Fort Magruder, the 20-year-old — a teacher as a civilian — was struck by an artillery shell. He “lived but a few moments,” a comrade recalled, “and died regretting he could not have been spared long enough to have got just one shot at the enemy before he died.”

Lawton’s friendship with Randall never turned to love — “on her part at least,” the Fall River (Mass.) Daily News later reported. A year before her friend was killed, Randall had married. But even in 1913, 51 years after Lawton’s death, the 66-year-old woman kept a darkened photograph of her friend.

"War Time Mystery Solved," read a headline in a Massachusetts newspaper about this remarkable reunification of photo with subject. But many other images — of families, sweethearts, and others — remain shrouded by the fog of war.

A mystery image with an Antietam connection

In the 1860s, Bascom William Tell Phreaner created this image, "copied from an
ambrotype found in the grave of a soldier" on the Antietam battlefield.

In the 1860s, Hagerstown, Md.-based photographer Bascom William Tell Phreaner created cartes-de-visite — small photographs pasted to a cardboard backing — of a young woman. Clad in a plaid dress, she stared intently at the camera. Her hair was pushed back in a popular, Civil War-era style. But the subject was unknown to the photographer, who didn’t even know if the woman were still alive. On the reverse of Phreaner’s CDV appeared these words:

"Copied from an ambrotype found in the grave of an Unknown soldier, on the Battle Field of Antietam."

An unknown number of the CDVs was distributed. But the effort to unmask the identity of the woman in the image — as well as the soldier in the grave where it was discovered — proved fruitless.

More mysteries linger

Efforts to identify photographs found on Civil War battlefields continue even today.

In a feature story published in 2012, Steve Szkotak of the Associated Press wrote about unidentified images in the vast collection of the American Civil War Museum (formerly Museum of the Confederacy) — a long-shot publicity effort the museum hoped would lead to the names of the subjects. Two poignant photographs were of little girls — one with pink-tinted cheeks and hair in ringlets, the other with her hair parted in the middle. 

A CDV of a young girl found
on a fallen soldier at Gettysburg.
(Jeff Kowalis collection)

A Confederate soldier found the former photograph at Port Republic (Va.), between the bodies of two soldiers — one U.S. Army, one Confederate. Another Rebel retrieved the later image from the haversack of a fallen U.S. Army soldier on a Virginia farm in April 1865. Days later, Lee surrendered the Army of Northern Virginia in nearby Appomattox Courthouse.

The story mentioned six other unidentified images from the museum’s holdings. Some had been in its collection for 60 years or more. None included any identification. One, found by a U.S. Army soldier on the Fredericksburg battlefield, was of a couple with two young children. All these photographs remain unidentified.

In 2021, avid Civil War photography collector Jeff Kowalis shared copies of unidentified images — of a toddler, a young girl, and a woman — found by a New York colonel with a fallen U.S. Army soldier at Gettysburg. The officer believed the dead man served with the 9th Massachusetts Battery. Fred Cross, military archivist for the State of Massachusetts from 1918-38, believed the colonel was wrong. But the images moved him nonetheless. (For more on Cross, see my August 2018 story in Civil War Times).

“Who the owner was will probably never be known,” Cross wrote. “But some soldier carried them close to his heart, took them out at evening and gazed lovingly at them by light of flickering campfires, and murmured a prayer for his absent loved ones as he tenderly put them back into their accustomed place. And then came GETTYSBURG.”

SOURCES 

• Cedar Rapids (Iowa) Daily Republican, Jan. 9, 1913
• Des Moines Register, March 23, 1924
• Fall River (Mass.) Daily Evening News, Sept. 25, 1913
• Hutchinson, Nelson V., History of the Seventh Massachusetts volunteer infantry in the war of the rebellion of the southern states against constitutional authority, 1861-1865, 1890
• Los Angeles Daily News, April 10, 1924
• The Berkshire Country Eagle, Pittsfield, Mass., July 23, 1863
• The Delphos Herald, Delphis, Kansas, April 25, 1879
• Tyrone (Pa.) Daily Herald, May 21, 1908

Oh, brother! How relic hunter uncovered rare Rebel buckle

In 2003 in Berryville, Va.,  Richard Clem holds his rare relic-hunting find: half of a Virginia -style
 CS tongue belt buckle. (Photo of Clem, buttons and belt plate below courtesy of  Richard and Don Clem)

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I  love great Civil War relic-hunting stories, and my friend Richard Clem has a ton of them. His stories have appeared on my blog here, here, here and here. Clem is most at peace, he once told me, when he's out in a field with a metal detector in hand and headphones on, searching for pieces of the past. Here's another story from the Hagerstown, Md., man who, along with his brother, has relic-hunted western Maryland, Virginia and West Virginia  for decades: 

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By Richard Clem

In the early morning hours of Aug. 13, 1864, Colonel John Singleton Mosby’s Partisan Rangers (43rd Virginia Cavalry Battalion) struck the rear of Major General Phillip H. Sheridan’s 600-wagon supply train heading for Winchester, Va. Mosby’s 300 horsemen surprised and routed the Federals near Buck Marsh, along the Berryville Pike. The raid, which ended by 6:30 a.m,, resulted in the Rebels capturing 200 beef cattle, 600 horses, 100 wagons and taking 200 prisoners.

John Singleton Mosby

After reading and studying the “Gray Ghost’s” Berryville Wagon Raid, the author and his brother, Don, decided to use metal detectors and maybe uncover some Civil War relics from the little-known battle. Our search started in early summer of 2003 along the Berryville Pike, just north of Buck Marsh.

The first area we went over was covered with thick, low-cut briars in an apple orchard. After fighting the rough terrain and coming up empty-handed, I climbed over a wire fence to try my luck in a more level pasture. Don kept the course. After an hour passed and still finding nothing of value, I met Don at a fence. With the words “the grass isn’t always greener on the other side of the fence,” brother handed me a beautiful, solid-cast Block “I” Infantry button. At that moment, I turned greener than the rich patina on the freshly-dug Confederate button.

Our next outing was on a section of rocky ground scattered with shade trees overlooking Buck Marsh. Digging English copper coins, broken dishes bearing a “London” trademark, brass shoe buckles and rusted knives and forks indicated this high ground was once an old Virginia homestead dating to the 18th century.

Through summer months, we continued combing the same area and collecting Civil War relics --including a sword handle, two U.S.belt buckles, two U.S. cartridge box plates, various Union and Confederate buttons and bullets as well as artifacts of the Colonial period. We never knew what century we were digging in until the buried object was removed from the Old Dominion soil.

With “positive targets” getting less and less and knowing “all good things must come to an end,” we started branching out from the once-productive area. After an hour or so hunting in the surrounding orchard, my bullet pouch remained empty. Then words of wisdom from a veteran relic hunter I met years ago on the battlefield of Antietam came to mind: “Boy, you’ll never get’em all." With this statement still fresh, I mentioned to Don, “Let’s go back over to the old spot -- the best might still be there.” It was!

In the same general area Richard Clem
 found the half of a CS belt buckle, 
his brother found this Confederate
 solid-cast  block "I" button and a rare 
Episcopal  High School button. Could the 
finds be connected to the same Rebel soldier?

Swinging close to an hour over the so-called hunted-out land, all I could show for my efforts was a few worthless brass ends of previously missed shotgun shells. Crossing over the ridge to call it a day, brother was spotted searching in the shade of some hardwood trees. Heading in his direction, I started searching in some knee-high grass when the detector meter indicated large brass. Starting to dig, I noticed the signal was centered in a narrow dirt path horses had made in the thick grass.

Several inches of hard-packed dirt was removed when dark green letters appeared in the bottom of the hole: “CS.”  The Virginia-style CS tongue (half of a tongue & wreath interlocking Confederate belt buckle) lay face up in almost-pristine condition. The CS, of course, stands for “Confederate States” of America. I knew immediately I had uncovered a valuable piece of Southern history -- odds of digging this relic seem like a million-to-one. I wasn’t swinging in or parallel with the horse trail, but rather cutting across it when the detector sounded off.  (More on this rare find can be found in Mullinax’s Confederate Belt Buckles & Plates, Plate 006 on Page 10.)

Trying to overcome my excitement, I turned off the detector and rushed over to my hunting partner. With encrusted dirt still clinging to the cast-brass treasure, it was proudly placed in his hand. “Where did you find this?” came the excited question. While pointing to the detector and headphones only yards away, Don remarked, “Unless I miss, my guess that wreath half has to be still laying around there somewhere!” You can bet we beat the “you know what” out of that tall grass, but no wreath. It could have been missed by only inches or it could be, as Don suggested, “in Tennessee.” Only the Ruler of All Knowledge knows exactly where it’s located.

On another typical, humid July afternoon on the edge of the old homestead, Don dug a nice two-piece button displaying a Maltese cross surrounded with letters “EHS / Va.” These letters stood for “Episcopal High School / Virginia.” Founded in 1839, this school of higher education is still in operation today in Alexandria, Va. The students all wore the same style uniforms, with a row of silver-washed buttons down the front. Early in the War Between the States, students wanting to fight for the Southern cause sometimes went to war wearing their school uniforms because Confederate equipment was in short supply. The school closed during the Civil War, but reopened in the post-war period.

One of four Federal belt plates Richard Clem found
 at the site in Berryville, Va.

Because of their brass construction that resists the elements of nature, the CS tongue and Episcopal button were in excellent condition after being underground close to 140 years. That they were located in a rocky area that was never touched by farmer’s plow or strong corrosive fertilizer also was a contributing factor to the good state of preservation,  (More on this type of rare button can be found in Crouch’s Virginia Militaria of the Civil War, Page 72.)

Now, for some food for thought, let’s travel back in time to 1864. During research on Mosby’s Berryville wagon raid, the name “Lewis B. Adie” surfaced as being one of only two Rebel Rangers killed in action on that early August morning. Lewis Benjamin Adie was born July 21, 1844, in Leesburg, Loudoun County, Va. His father, the Reverend George Adie, was rector of St. James Episcopal Church in Leesburg.

A member of 149th Ohio Infantry wrote, “I saw him (Adie) lying on his face the body of a handsome man, who was shot by our company.” Another witness stated, “Before receiving the fatal shot, Adie killed two of the enemy with his revolver and pressing the third hard, he fell under the fire of an infantry company which arose from behind a stone wall.” The final resting place of the young trooper remains unknown, although one source lists him as being “buried on the field.”

A close-up of Richard Clem's rare find.

As a member of Mosby’s cavalry, Private Adie should have been carrying a sword. Don dug the handle of a Confederate sword at the homestead site. The belt that the sword scabbard or revolver holster in all probability would have had a tongue & wreath buckle as the CS tongue I dug. True, it can’t be proven Adie was even carrying a sword. But we know he “killed two of the enemy with his revolver” that would have had a holster and perhaps a tongue & wreath buckle. It would be hard to lose either half of one of these “interlocking” buckles unless it was taken from a person who was killed or dying.

What is even a stranger coincidence, at the beginning of the war, Lewis Adie was attending the Episcopal High School in Alexandria, Va. The Episcopal button my brother dug came from that very school. All three of these artifacts were discovered close together on ground overlooking Buck Marsh, in the general vicinity where Adie was killed. The author realizes to connect these relics to anyone is next to impossible. Yet the question must still be asked: “Could the sword handle, CS tongue and the Episcopal button all have been the personal effects of one Lewis Benjamin Adie?” Any attempt to answer this question would be mere speculation, but it provides some good “food for thought.”

I’ll always remember one summer evening leaving the old homestead under a breathtaking Virginia sunset. Walking along a dusty lane while passing back and forth the just-dug CS tongue, Don offered to trade me his whole day’s find of two bullets and two plain brass buttons for the cherished relic. We never made a deal. As we drove out of the orchard in the pickup truck on our way home, words from the past echoed once again:

“Boy, you’ll never get’em all.”

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SOURCES:

--Episcopal High School 
--Relicman.com, B3990
--Williamson, James J., Mosby’s Rangers, Ralph B. Kenyon Publisher, New York, 1896.
--Crouch, Howard R., Civil War Artifacts, SCS Publications, Fairfax, Va., 1995.
--Mullinax, Steve E., Confederate Belt Buckles & Plates, O’Donnell Publications, Alexandria, Va., 1991.

During our visit in Sharpsburg, Md., in December 2015, Clem showed me his fabulous discovery.

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Don't miss an excellent Civil War museum in Winchester, Va.

A Yankee soldier gave Jefferson Davis a piece of his mind. 

Henry Powell, a 15-year-old Union soldier, scrawled his alias, "Henry Jones," 
on the second-floor courthouse wall. 

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When two Union soldiers scrawled on the wall of the second floor of the Frederick County Courthouse in Winchester, Va.,  they probably didn't expect visitors there 150 years later would stare at their handiwork. One of the Yankees even took a potshot at his arch-enemy, the president of the Confederacy. "To Jeff Davis," the unknown soldier etched on the wall, "may he be set afloat on a boat without compass or rudder then that any contents be swallowed by a shark by a whale whale in the devils belly and the devil in hell the gates locked the key lost and further may he be put in the north west corner with a south east wind blowing ashes in his eyes for all eternity." Punctuation and grammar weren't that soldier's strong suit, but you get the idea.

More soldier etchings, as well as an impressive collection of Civil War artillery, may also be found on the second floor of the red-brick building, which was used as a prison and a hospital during the Civil War. Today, it's home to the outstanding Old Court House Civil War Museum on Loudoun Street. Much of the Civil War collection, which also includes muskets, bullets, uniforms, buttons, grenades and more, was provided by long-time collector Harry Ridgeway, a Winchester resident and founder of the museum, who sells Civil War artifacts on his excellent web site. (An aside: One my fondest memories is a visit to Harry's Winchester house more than a decade ago. A longtime relic hunter, he has an amazing Civil War collection.)

Even though I only had time for a 30-minute visit, the $5 museum fee was well worth it. I especially enjoyed the large collection of massive Union artillery shells, most of them deactivated (I'm kidding), and the large collection of used and new books for sale in the gift shop on the first floor. Although the old courthouse was used as a hospital for both armies, I couldn't find any blood on the beautiful floor boards, which are original. Perhaps I wasn't looking hard enough. Maybe next time.

During the Civil War, the Frederick County Courthouse in Winchester, Va, was used as a 
prison and hospital.  After battles in the area, dead and wounded soldiers were
 placed on the building's porch.

                                   A judge's view of the first floor of the old courthouse.
                (CLICK ON IMAGE FOR FULL-SCREEN INTERACTIVE PANORAMA.)

Smoothbore artillery shells. Look but don't touch!

This huge smoothbore projectile was meant to be fired from the Dictator, the largest Union mortar.

The massive shells in the front row were used in fort guns. 

A pair of rifled Confederate artillery shells.

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Third Battle of Winchester: Where a Connecticut Indian died

The old Taylor Hotel on Loudoun Street in Winchester, Va., was a hospital for
 both armies during the Civil War.

Today, the old hotel is home for a Cajun restaurant. There are no visible signs
 of its use during the Civil War.

I think I lost the waitress when I said, "I'm researching a soldier who died in this restaurant." She smiled weakly, rolled her eyes and asked if I'd like something to drink. I was in Winchester, Va,, on Wednesday afternoon, trying, and ultimately failing, to understand what happened to the 2nd Connecticut Heavy Artillery at the Third Battle of Winchester. Much of the battlefield is lost in urban sprawl, a chunk behind a local high school and slivers by a mall and alongside the busy Berryville Pike. After a frustrating two-hour adventure. I headed to the Old Town section of Winchester for lunch at the old Taylor Hotel on Loudoun Street. During the Civil War, the hotel was used as a hospital for both armies. Today, after narrowly escaping the wrecking ball and undergoing a massive restoration, the building houses a restaurant that serves pretty decent Cajun food. (I highly recommend the excellent steak bites.)

William Cogswell, a lieutenant in the
 2nd Connecticut Heavy Artillery, was
 mortally wounded at the
Third Battle of Winchester.
(Photo: Cornwall Historical Society)

On Sept. 19, 1864, casualties from the Heavies were taken to the Taylor Hotel, not exactly a pleasant prospect for the building landlord, “Strange to say,” a private in the regiment noted, “[he] did not seem to be at all pleased by the sudden accession to his guests.” Among the wounded was a 25-year lieutenant named William Cogswell, a part-Schaghticoke Indian from Cornwall, Conn., who overcame prejudice to become one of the regiment's more respected soldiers.

Severely wounded when a Rebel artillery shell burst among Yankee soldiers, Cogswell was transported to a field hospital on the west side of Opequon Creek before he was taken to the Taylor Hotel hospital with other injured from the regiment, After his left leg was amputated above the knee, he died at the hotel hospital on Oct. 7, 1864, 19 days after he was wounded.

“No one who knew him would object to serve with him as a soldier,” a correspondent to the Winsted (Conn.) Herald wrote after Cogswell's death. “…Many an idle hour in camp was beguiled of its tediousness by his ready wit, while his long yarns would do credit to any sailor. A little Indian blood is not considered bad for fun or fighting.”

Cogswell’s body was returned to Connecticut, and on November 21, 1864, his remains were laid to rest in North Cornwall Cemetery before “a large concourse of citizens who paid the dead soldier every respect.”

Sources:

The Winsted Herald, Sept. 30, 1864
Hartford Daily Courant, Dec. 3, 1864

A major chunk of the Third Battle of Winchester may be found behind a high school. The land has been preserved by the Civil War Trust. (Click on image for full-screen interactive panorama.)

Union troops marched down the Berryville Pike to attack Jubal Early's Rebels 
during the Third Battle of Winchester.

Winchester (Va.) cemetery: A Confederate photo gallery

If you don't stumble into Civil War history in Winchester, Va., you're doing something wrong. Three battles were fought in the town, which changed hands more than 70 times during the war. Stonewall Jackson made his headquarters on North Braddock Street during the winter of 1861-62, and prisoners of war from by both armies were kept at the county courthouse on Loudoun Street, within walking distance of the Taylor Hotel, which was used as a hospital by Rebels and Yankees. On Wednesday afternoon, just before I left town, I visited the Stonewall section of Mount Hebron Cemetery, where nearly 2,600 Confederates are buried. During a quick stop at the main office, a woman -- a Virginia native, of course -- kindly shared with me an old image of one of America's most famous soldiers of the 20th century. Here's a photo journal of my visit:

THEN AND NOW: THE PATTONS

On July 3, 1863, Colonel Waller Patton was mortally wounded at the Battle of Gettysburg when part of his jaw was ripped away by an artillery fragment. The 28-year-old officer in the 7th Virginia died 18 days later at Pennsylvania College in Gettysburg. Fourteen months later, on Sept. 19, 1864, Waller's older brother, George, a colonel in the 22nd Virginia, was killed in action at the Third Battle of Winchester (Va.) Both men were buried in Mount Hebron Cemetery,  across the road today from Winchester National Cemetery, where nearly 4,400 Union soldiers from area battles rest. Decades later, George S. Patton Jr. (right), the colonel's grandson and later a famed World War II general, and his father visited the brothers' grave and posed for the photograph above.  

TEXAS MEMORIAL

Topped with a lone star, this monument to the 1st and 5th Texas infantries was dedicated by the Texas Division Children of The Confederacy on July 22, 2013, "in observance of the 150 years of remembrance of the War Between the States."  "God Keep You" in French is carved into the bottom of the granite monument.

COLONEL DANIEL CHRISTIE'S GRAVE

A colonel on the 23rd North Carolina, Daniel Harvey Christie was a teacher and merchant before the Civil War. (See his image and more info on him at Brian Downey's outstanding Antietam On The Web site.) Wounded at Gettysburg on July 1, 1863, the 30-year-old Christie died 16 days later in Winchester. Before his death, he vowed to his men that he would have "the imbecile" General Alfred Iverson, the brigade commander who led the poorly conceived attack, canned it he were the last thing he did. Robert E. Lee, in fact, removed Iverson from command after the battle. Christie's marker was erected in his memory by his wife, Lizzie.

HEAVY METAL

This rusty, old Confederate grave marker, likely from the late 19th century, weighs several pounds.

CAPTAIN HUGH McGUIRE'S MARKER

Worn down by nearly four years of war, the Confederate army could ill-afford to lose more officers in April 1865. Wounded in the chest on April 5, 1865, during the Rebels' retreat to Appomattox Courthouse, McGuire, a 23-year-old captain in 11th Virginia Cavalry, died on May 8, 1865, nearly a month after the Civil War officially ended. "So it goes," a Rebel soldier lamented in his diary after he received news of McGuire's wounding and the death of two other Confederate officers. "The best men are being rapidly killed off: How long. Oh! how long must this continue?"  McGuire, whose brother Hunter was a physician on Jackson's staff, was the last Rebel soldier from Winchester to die during the Civil War.