Hiram Smith Watkins was my great-great-great-grandfather. He was born November 28, 1834, exactly 137 years before my birth. He died December 13, 1910, exactly 91 years ago. I never had the chance to meet Hiram. Still, I feel as if I know him.

Hiram left us a legacy of facts. Through the census records, deeds, his Will, and military records we know many things about him, but it’s between the lines of those records about Hiram’s life that speak volumes more about the man I wish I had known. More than anything else, Hiram’s military service to the Confederacy during the Civil War between the states tells me that he was a man of great character, a man of great courage, a man to be admired. I am proud to call Hiram my great-great-great-grandfather ~ and this is why:

On April 11, 1862 Hiram enlisted in the 16^th Virginia Infantry with his brother Horseley. Two years later on May 12, 1864, during the Battle of Spotsylvania Court House, Hiram received his first and most serious wound. A musketball penetrated his left hip joint. Most likely, there was no medicine for his pain, and he was not relieved for hospitalization. The lack of medical treatment would eventually lead to having his leg amputated. In spite of his wound, Hiram kept to his position, marching with his fellow soldiers, and fighting for another thirty days until the Battle of Cold Harbor. By June 12^th, General Grant’s federal forces had been attacking the Confederate forces under General Lee. The Union casualties totaled 55,000 to the Confederate’s 32,000. It was here that Hiram was shot in the right shoulder. Still, Hiram stayed with his troop, marching and fighting through the summer heat and into the Fall for another four months.

How he endured the pain, I do not know. How he continued to march and fight is beyond my comprehension. I wonder if he ever felt faint from a loss of blood. I wonder when the musketballs were finally removed from his flesh. I wonder if it was easier to endure his own physical pain than to watch his brothers, marching beside him, weary and wounded, endure their own suffering.

Finally, on October 28, 1864 at the Battle of Burgess Mill, Hiram was wounded a third time, loosing the forefinger of his left hand. He and his brother George were captured as prisoners of war and sent to Point Lookout, a very cruel Union prison camp in Maryland. Here, Hiram was about to face a new kind of Hell. Hiram continued to suffer from his wounds, and doubtfully received any medical attention. There was very little food, harsh treatment, and exposure to many diseases running rampant in the camp. It was a miracle that Hiram, in his weakened and unhealthy condition did not succumb to the diseases around him. His younger brother, George, wasn’t so lucky. Hiram watched his brother die in the rat-infested prison where he was forced to say goodbye. Somehow Hiram survived and was paroled on May 16, 1865. He returned home to his wife, a different man.

Hiram wasn’t beaten and he wasn’t defeated. He survived so that he could be a better man. He was known to be a cripple, but that didn’t stop him from having more children. His medical records say that he was unable to perform manual labor and answer his call of farming, but he still raised a family. Hiram lost his citizenship, and gained it back. He lost his leg, but he refused to be confined and applied for an artificial limb in 1884. Then in 1893 he applied for a military pension at the age of 58, receiving $15 a year. In 1910, Hiram passed away nearly six months after his wife Susan. Hiram did more than survive. He lived.

By

Jennifer Hudson Taylor