Recent Events

Miami River Days - April 10, 2004
A 10th Tenn. Sponsored Living History Event
by Curtis Peterson

I was first made aware of a fellow named Steve Burt through the cyber pages of this news magazine.  Back in 2002, a short article appeared calling for volunteers to serve in the Hunley Honor Guard.  Steve Burt, the Corporal of the Guard, was the contact man.  Steve had been standing guard at the Warren Lasch Conservatory in North Charleston ever since the CSS Hunley, and the remains of her crew, were brought there after the sub was raised from the floor of the Atlantic in the summer of 2000.  In the beginning, Steve stood alone, a one-man tribute to valor.  Eventually though, he got some help and the Hunley Honor Guard was born. 

I made the necessary contacts and my family and I made the trip to Charleston in March, 2003.  I had the privilege of standing in the honor guard with a company from Georgia, but the greater privilege was that of meeting Steve Burt in person.  I won’t repeat in detail my experience that weekend as I already submitted an article about that some time ago.  What I will say is that Steve was very courteous to me and most kind to my wife and daughter as they mingled with the spectators in the exhibit hall wearing their period attire.  He made a big impression on the three of us and we looked forward to seeing him again whenever the big funeral was to take place.  While we were there we were told that the much-anticipated date for the Hunley funeral would be announced almost any day.   

That day didn’t come until May, but as soon as I heard about it I booked a room in Charleston for the weekend of April 17, 2004.  Later on, however, we received some very sad news.  Steve Burt died of pancreatic cancer early in September, roughly sixty days after finding out he had the disease.  He was only 49 and, despite the ravages of his illness, he remained active in the honor guard to the end.  I was now determined to do this ceremony for Steve, if for no other reason.             

The months went by and as the time approached my wife began sewing appropriate civilian attire for her and our daughter to wear at the ceremony while I polished my rifle, brass and other sundry things.  Then on February 20, I received a surprise phone call from Loren O’Donnell of the Hunley Honor Guard.  Loren was calling men who had previously served in the honor guard and he asked me if I would be interested in serving in that capacity for the entire week of the ceremonies.  Of course, I was more than happy to accept once I was able to make the necessary adjustments to my schedule.  My previous service was paying off in ways I had not anticipated. 

We left on the morning of April 12, and arrived in Charleston a little after 2 in the afternoon.  After checking into our motel, we made our way out to the USS Yorktown at Patriot’s Point.  The remains of the Hunley crew arrived at 5 that afternoon in eight black hearses.  A detail of forty-eight pallbearers carried the coffins onboard the aircraft carrier and placed them on eight black draped catafalques located on the hangar deck.  In front of each catafalque was a plaque bearing the name of the deceased and a burgundy pillow where a Confederate Medal of Honor, awarded to each crewman, was placed.  The remains would lie in state on the USS Yorktown both Monday and Tuesday of that week.  I reported to Loren O’Donnell for honor guard duty that evening after the brief ceremony, but the initial duties were being handled by the pallbearer detail that first night.  I was told to report to the Yorktown at 5 p.m. the next evening.  

Tuesday dawned a stormy day, but my family and I were determined to use the free time to find our way around town.  We toured the historic district and learned a great deal about the history of Charleston, a history that goes back to the 1690’s.  We were also able to go inside St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, the great white church founded in 1760 that was painted black during the siege of Charleston so that it would present less of a target for federal gunners.  In the graveyard adjacent to the church lie two signers of the U.S. Constitution, an irony that did not escape my appreciation. 

Upon my arrival at the Yorktown that afternoon, I found that the coffins had been moved from the viewing area when the previous evening’s activities were completed.  I was fortunate to be selected as a pallbearer to carry two of the coffins from the theater to the hangar deck and lay them on their catafalques…one of the coffins I bore was Lt. Dixon’s.  We moved forward at a funeral step, which is one step forward with the left foot, followed by bringing the right foot up and stopping at attention, then one step forward with the right foot, and so on.  This was a fairly tricky maneuver on the steel deck of the Yorktown wearing brogans with iron heel plates.  The oak coffins were also surprisingly heavy.  I later found out that the bones were not simply laid out loose in the coffins, but were sealed inside a brass vault encased within the coffins…this accounted for the added weight.  I took several turns standing watch over the coffins and attended the Lutheran memorial services that evening in the Yorktown’s theater.

The remains were moved to John Wesley United Methodist Church to lie in state from 9 to 5 on Wednesday, and for a memorial service from 7 to 8 that evening.  This would be the routine for the remainder of the week.  By this time, the numbers in the honor guard were beginning to grow as more men began to arrive.  One young man had just arrived from Indiana with his new bride.  They were spending their honeymoon on Hunley duty (I’ll not comment on where I think his head was).  For the memorial service that evening I was fortunate again in being one of eight reenactors selected to represent the fallen heroes.  We were given places of honor in the front row of the packed out church and, after the service, we lined both sides of the vestibule and stood at attention as those who came to pay their respects filed out of the church.  But the most moving aspect of this service was the speech made by Hunley Commission board member, Randy Burbage, who openly wept as he spoke of the sacrifice made by the Hunley crew, none of whom were from South Carolina, in an attempt to relieve the city of Charleston from one of the longest sieges in the history of warfare – a siege which lasted longer than the siege of Leningrad during WWII.  

Thursday the remains were moved to the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist, but we took the day off to do some more goofing and made the boat trip out to Fort Sumter.  We also attended a presentation on the Hunley in the large auditorium at the Museum of Charleston given by Hunley Commission Chairman, State Senator Glenn McConnell.  Senator McConnell has been a driving force behind the Hunley conservation initiative and behind the effort to honor the crew with a state funeral.  At the conclusion of his presentation he received a standing ovation that lasted well over a minute, and it was well deserved when you take into account the political risk an elected representative takes these days if he/she openly advocates Confederate Heritage preservation.  To illustrate how less courageous politicians acknowledge this risk, consider the fact that the governors of South Carolina and thirteen other Southern states were invited to attend the Hunley funeral, and all of them, to a man, declined the invitation.  

By Friday the honor guard detail was overflowing with new arrivals from Tennessee.  The remains of the Hunley crew were in place at the Episcopal 
Church of the Holy Communion.  Now, in addition to the other items placed in front of the coffins, there were framed portraits (computer composites) of what the individual crewman were believed to have looked like based on a forensic study of the remains.  So many additional men were available that I had the opportunity to stand guard only once before having to leave at 2:00 for the cemetery to do some rehearsing.                                      

Mr. O’Donnell was taking care of the people he had invited to serve for that week.  He was in charge of the detail handling the coffin of Seaman Arnold Becker, the sailor who manned the number 2 position on the Hunley next to Lt. Dixon.  His coffin would be on the second caisson in the funeral procession.  Each caisson would have six pallbearers assigned, another man in charge of each pallbearer detail, and an armed escort (honor guard) behind each caisson.  According to protocol, Lt. Dixon, being the commanding officer of the Hunley, was to have an armed escort of thirty men.  Arnold Becker, being a seaman, was allowed no more than nine.  I was selected to be one of them.  Loren tried to get the newlywed from Indiana in on the Becker Honor Guard, but the honeymooner begged off claiming sore feet (yeah, right!).  That being the case he was substituted by another man, so Becker’s caisson would have an escort of armed infantry made up of men from South Carolina, Tennessee, Georgia, and of course, one lone Floridian. 

Saturday, April 17, was the big day.  We were up early to eat a quick breakfast in our room and get our stuff together so we could get to the cemetery by 5:45.  From there, shuttle buses began running at 6 to carry participants to White Point Gardens on the Battery where the funeral procession was to form up.  The coffins arrived some time later in hearses and were placed in front of the Confederate Defenders of Charleston monument and the ceremonies commenced with numerous speeches, prayers and music.  The crowd in this area was quite dense between the estimated 8-9,000 reenactors present and the civilian spectators.  The sun was fully up by this time, and we all started to bake in our wool as the caissons were brought up into position.  Once the commencement ceremonies were completed, the flag draped coffins were placed on their caissons, the pallbearers and armed escorts took their places, and the state battalions began to fall into line.  The procession stepped off at around 9:40, twenty minutes ahead of schedule.  

It was huge.  I could see where the procession began with the color bearers because I was up near the front, but there was no way to see all the way to the rear.  Afterwards, I spoke to some fellows who had been marching toward the middle and they said they could see neither end.  Later on I read in the newspaper that the procession stretched for a mile-and-a-half along the four-and-a-half mile parade route.  Incredible!  

The day wasn’t terribly hot, possibly 80 degrees with a slight breeze, but four-and-half-miles of paved road is a long way to march in brogans.  I held up okay – except for my feet.  It would be days before they got back to normal.  It was quite a long parade.  We were halted about three times along the way so we could take on water and remove our hats to cool down a little.  We finally filed into Magnolia Cemetery behind our caisson.  One at a time, the coffins were removed from their respective caissons and borne to the viewing platform.  Behind each coffin, the assigned honor guard detail followed at shoulder arms.  Once your coffin was in place your detail was to file behind the platform and fall in alongside the other detail.  I dressed on the captain of Dixon’s Honor Guard.  He looked at me and said, “That was quite a march.”  I nodded in agreement and replied, “My feet are pretty sore.”  He just shook his head and said, “My ribs hurt!”  We then each took a knee. 

Magnolia Cemetery predates the Civil War by several decades and is said to be the largest Confederate Cemetery in South Carolina.  We were assembled among literally scores of headstones either bearing name and rank or marked unknown with dates of death ranging between 1862 and 1865. Despite the age of the cemetery, there were surprisingly few trees where we were assembled.  It seemed to be a field as wide open as the valley in front of Cemetery Ridge at Gettysburg.  Two thousand chairs had been set up in the area for guests, but the vast majority of those present had to stand.  Once the entire funeral entourage had marched into the cemetery and found a place to fall into line, we were all dismissed for a 20-minute break and served lemonade and cookies. 

After the break, we all reassembled and the ceremony began.  This consisted of numerous speeches and tributes by many dignitaries, including Senator McConnell who was wearing the uniform of a Confederate officer.  Afterwards, the pallbearers were reassembled and carried the coffins back to the well-shaded area where they would be laid in their final resting place next to the two previous Hunley crews.  This area was several hundred yards to the rear and it took quite a while for the various honor guard details and other battalions to march back there and realign.  A big circle was formed around the communal grave with the honor guards lined up in the center.  The coffins were carefully lowered into the grave, side by side, a ships bell was rung eight times in tribute to the eight crewmen, a twenty-five man detail fired four musket volleys and then, the artillery salute.  We had been told there would be fifty pieces, each firing one round.  I was too tired to count the booms, but there certainly were a lot.   

It was over.  What an experience – an event like no other and quite certainly one not to be repeated – the last Confederate funeral.  My service in the honor guard has left me with a quiet sense of duty fulfilled and it’s a warm satisfaction I’ll carry with me the rest of my days – my personal tribute to Steve Burt and the men of the Hunley.  

Yours, most respectfully,
David Mullins

Dept. Of Gulf And Hardy's Brigade Reenactors
March To Honor C.S.S. Hunley And Her Crew

The eight man Hunley crew lie in state
photo by Tim Hollamby

Men of the 10th Tenn. Co. A. who attended
the Hunley memorial services

..............................

    We went into to Charleston on Thursday to walk around and see all the activities.  I, of course, went in Widow's weeds.  It was a nice day, in the 80's.  My Yankee brother, Mitchell, went as my chaperone, map reader, and photographer.  He tells me I cannot read maps, so I used his expertise...ha ha.  Charleston was alive with Confederate Soldiers, sailors, ladies in period dress and tourists who were in awe at all of us in period dress.  Many thought that we were a  'normal attraction' in  Charleston, just for the tourists who visit.   We met tourists from England, Germany and all parts of the United States who did just come to Charleston for the Hunley burial.  We walked around, listening to 'period' speakers, music, and various activities in Charleston.  Then I insisted that WE MUST go to the viewing of the Hunley Crew.  We knew the address, had a map of Charleston, and I had my trusty map reader.  What else did we need!  Our vehicle was a mile or more away at the battery at White Point Gardens, so we decided to walk.  I am a walker, so "lets go".   My brother, the map reader, said that all we had to do was go west about three blocks and with the address number being  218 Ashley Avenue.... it should then only be a couple-three blocks north of where Queen Street and Ashley meet.  Well, off we went, west on Queen Street,  we walked and we walked and then we walked some more.  My brother's patience was being tested as he is not the walker in the family, he is the big Gold Wing motorcycle rider in the family.  With his bike in south Florida, he was suffering separation pains.  It just happened that there was  a motorcycle rally at the same time in Charleston.  As we hoofed it, bikes were all over the place, zooming by us walkers,  the dirty looks I got from  my map reader, oh ouch.  Anyway, a back to the walk, we are still walking.  We got to where Ashley was to have been, we found a big lake that we had to walk around to get to Ashley.  The map reader now had it figured to be about three blocks north.  So we continued walking.  Did you know that they have LONG blocks in Charleston?  We finally got there.  It was about a three mile walk!...and we still had to walk back and then back to the vehicle afterward.

    The Hunley Crew were in the Church of the Holy Communion Episcopal.  It was so beautiful, the honor shown the Hunley Crew.  The changing of the honor guard was done in a solemn military procedure.  Those standing as honor guard were at attention, with straight faces and eyes front.  We were lucky.  The crew of the Hunley were moved around to different churches each day.  The previous church or churches did NOT allow cameras or photos.  This church allowed as many photos as you wanted to take.  So the widow and the map reader whipped out our cameras and shoot we did!  
 
    We then started our quest back.  By this time my feet were killing me.  Walking several miles is easy...in my tennis shoes.  Walking several miles in period style shoes is different.  The bottom of my feet felt on fire, each step was painful.  When we finally arrived back to the vehicle, we then checked the distance by driving over our 'afternoon stroll, and it was just about 7 miles.

    My walking was not completed, we went to Magnolia Cemetery to see the previous Hunley Crews burial sites.  This was a beautiful old cemetery, with water running through it and huge old bent and twisted trees growing.  Once again the map reader chose to park at the Cemetery entrance and walk back, even tho' a wise old Confederate Soldier told us it was WAY BACK on the back side and stressed the WAY BACK.  My brother, the map reader, chose to walk.  Again we walked and we walked.  We found the Confederate area of the Cemetery with beautiful monuments and cannons.  However we had to WALK more to find the Hunley WAY BACK.  I honestly was about to cry, who would know under the privacy of my weeping widow's veil.  It would have been appropriate!  We arrived at the Hunley crewmen's burial site and again whipped out our cameras and then started walking back.  I figure it was close to a mile or so back there and then back to the car!  So I now walked about 9 miles on sore feet.

    Then my cousin Pam Steele informed us the details for the funeral on Saturday.  We were instructed to be at the parking area, a field, next to the cemetery at 6:00 a.m. to be loaded on buses to be transported to the Battery area at White Point Gardens, for the opening ceremonies and the funeral march starting point.  The look on my brother's face was priceless.  It made up for my aching feet and his decision to walk 'way back' to the burial site instead of driving back.  Our motel room was over an hour's drive out of town.  We would have to get up at 4:00 a.m.  for me to have time to get into period dress, pack up our suitcases, check out of the motel, and drive to Charleston.  Then we would have to pick up my cousin Pam, in Charleston, and drive back north to the Cemetery by 6:00 a.m.  He was not a happy camper, but he did good!  There may be hope for that Yank after all.  We got there, got on the buses and arrived at the Battery area.  This is where my brother had problems.  He complained that every time he turned around and back again, he had lost me.  I don't understand, as he told one lady, I am looking for my sister, she is wearing black dress and a black veil.  The lady laughed at him as there were about 400 ladies in black at White Point Gardens.

    H. K. Edgerton and his brother showed up and were given a loud southern welcome by all.  The crew of the Hunley were brought in by modern day hearses and the coffins placed on stands to be turned over to period pall bearers.  After the service at White Point Gardens, we all rushed to get in our positions.  There was a long line of portajohns set up.  Unfortunately there was a line about two blocks long waiting to get to them.

    I lined up behind the Florida SCV Division, and Fla State Division Commander John Adams.  We were right in front of those Georgia Boys.  This was about one mile back  from the ceremony / starting point for the funeral procession.  We stood and walked two feet and stood some more then walked a few more feet and again stood.  This went on for about an hour, the stopping and starting.  We finally got moving and passed the starting point a around 10:30 am which was the time the funeral march was to start.  We were on schedule.  It took about 2 and ½ hours to walk the funeral march route, with the stops and starts.  The funeral route was to be 4.5 miles.  Well it was a hair longer than that, and if you were like most who started in the middle or toward the back it was closer to being 6.5  or 7.0 miles.  This is not a complaint.  I was prepared for this and felt it to be an honor to be in this funeral march and to be at the funeral of the Hunley.  I would have walked it if it had been 10 plus miles.  My feet did okay until about an hour and ½  into the march.  Then the pain returned.  But I kept thinking of the crew of the Hunley and the pain and anguish they must have felt knowing they were going to die and only able to wait for it to happen.  I felt my painful feet just added to the Hunley Funeral feeling for me... this is easier to say now!  I have heard reports that there were 9,000 to 10,000 people in the parade and 99.0% of them were all in period dress, reenactors, SCV members, UDC members, OCR members, Society of Black Rose members, and wives and husbands of those members in period dress.  There were even Union soldiers there to pay respects to the Hunley.  I personally thanked some of them for being there.   Many soldiers in period uniforms and even many widows dropped from the parade due to the heat.  It looked like a battle site at times with soldiers leaning up against telephone poles or buildings or flat on their backs by the side of the roadway.  There were period dress ladies sitting and fanning themselves trying to get rid of the blood red faces that they had.   I did okay, heat did not bother me, walking was okay, just the feet!.   Why didn't those ingenious southerners invent the tennis shoes in the 1860's !!!  I refused to wear modern shoes when I do my impressions but I can wish.
 
    At the Cemetery: saw thousands and thousands of Confederates, some Union soldiers, many period dress ladies and hundreds or more of civilians.  It was a site that did my heart well and again made up for the sore feet.  I have heard reports of 45,000 and one television station reported that there were 75,000 at the cemetery.  The service at the cemetery: there were soldiers, sailors, ladies all standing, sitting or lying down, but all there and proud to be there.  This will be a high point in all of the historical activities that I have done that will stay with me for the  rest of my life.
 
    I found Calvin Greathouse and his clan.  They were lying on their bellies face down in the grass by the water.  They could not get up to greet me, they could just raise their heads up to speak.  They made the walk and you could tell that they were tired and hot but they were mostly just PROUD.  I saw Larry Powell, of 7th Fla Inf Co. B and SCV, he walked the whole distance with a bad leg.  He normally has his walking stick but Larry wanted and needed to walk in this Hunley funeral.  Again I saw a very tired and sore man, but mostly an extremely proud one.  There was Jimmy Shirley, Commander of James Patton Anderson SCV camp 1599 of West Palm Beach, FL, marching in his Confederate 7th Fla Inf. Uniform.  I know he was proud and he probably was not going to feel the pain until he came down from his Confederate high.  I saw a young man from New York, a confederate, who was walking slowly and using his rifle to support himself.  I asked him to sit down next to me.  I was fearful that he was about to pass out.  He sat down and told me that his leg was in severe pain and that his back was hurting really bad.  He stated that he did not have leg or back problems, but the stopping and starting and the distance did him in however, he stated that he just had to come to Charleston for the Hunley and then he HAD to complete the march, pain or no pain!  I saw a couple of emergency carts come in and take away soldiers for medical attention.  What I did not see was anyone complaining about being there or sorry that they marched!

    Do I have any complaints.  Did I tell you that my feet hurt?  But seriously, there was one major problem.  There were not any water arrangements or relief stations set up along the route.  I have reenacted long enough, just over 15 years, that I know to have water.  I make long pockets in my dresses and underpinnings that will hold bottles of water.  I gave some out to those near me who were fading fast without water.  We were well an hour or so into the funeral procession before some family members of those walking started showing up with bottles of water they bought.  Then some of those watching the procession offered us extra bottles of water that they had.  One business opened his back door as we passed and started selling bottles there.  I don't know what kind of a store it was but it did not look like grocery store.  Toward the end of the funeral procession, about ¼ mile from the Cemetery entrance someone set up with some coolers and started giving us cups of ice.  My only other complaint was that I would be willing to bet that 90 percent of those in the funeral procession never had the first bite of food unless they stored it in their haversacks.  I grabbed a banana and put it in my basket to have for something.  I never got a chance to eat it.  It stayed in my basket, kinda like a security blanket!  But there was nothing at the White Point Gardens for anyone to eat.  There was nothing at all set up to give out food or even to sell food or drinks.  There may have been eateries down the street into Charleston, but I would imagine that most did not go there.  We did not want to leave White Point Gardens where the services were to start and then to line up.  I think that this was one thing that caused many to drop from the ranks as they marched.  The lack of water and little or no food.  Hey maybe that was the plan, it sure sounds like our ancestors' complaints, sore feet, shortage of water and little or no food.  Maybe I should just stop complaining about the minor things and concentrate on the honor that I was lucky enough to be part of.  I was in the funeral procession and the funeral of 'probably' the last Confederate Funeral.  That is an honor and the least I or anyone there, could do for those who gave their all!

    Well that is my story of my trip to Charleston and the Hunley Funeral.  I am back to work, preparing an all day trip tomorrow to put flags and flowers on all the Confederate Graves from Miami to West Palm Beach, another honor.  Oh, my feet, I am still limping but I  have been walking daily anyway.  I had quarter size blisters on the bottom of the balls of my feet and smaller blisters on the soles of my feet and under the other toes but my wounds are healing and I have been carrying around the photo album of the Hunley Funeral all week long.  It goes everywhere I go even if it is just ME looking at it and reliving it all over again.

Kathy E. Clark-Tilson, The Confederate Widow
Vice President Margaret Mitchell Chapter  #2246 United
Daughters of the Confederacy
Vice President Delity Powell Kelly Chapter #3 Order of
Confederate Rose
State President Society of the Black Rose, Fla.
Member 7th Florida Inf Co. B
Member Gold Coast Reenactors
Chairperson Yesteryear Village,WPB
 
From Marty Hoffman......
Greetings,
     The Hunley Funeral exceeded all expectations!  It was more than reenacting, it was history in the making.  The people of Charleston were gracious throughout the event.  Even during the line up, residents of the multimillion dollar waterfront mansions opened their homes for reenactors to get a drink or use their bathrooms.  The streets were packed with thousands.  The funeral march was long, hot, and crowded; yet I savored every step.  People stood on the roofs and overpasses to just get a glimpse of the coffins followed by well over a mile of reenacters.  When the march would pause, there would be no lack of people offering cold drinks, ice, and food to the marchers.  Flags were unfurled everywhere and the scene was reminiscent of what one would have imagined the funeral of Lee or Jackson would have been.  I doubt any future reenacting experience will come close to the glory of this event.  We laid to rest some veterans who died for their cause, and with each step of the march I came to appreciate more and more the present sacrifice of our troops in the Middle East.
 
Pvt. Marty Hoffman
8th FL. Co. B - CSA

It's obvious the railroad committee was hard at work.  They cleared acres of land and it was hard to choose which spot to be the best.  As this was my first coordination of an event, I understand where the hard part is: getting people to attend and stay.

We put on four shows for the spectators and the last one 2:00 on Sunday and it was a good one, talking about improv.  The confederates had the train and were going to stop and be searched by the Union Army for contraband.  Upon stopping the train, my trusty bugler and I attempted to board.  I saw a gun and started running around like a chicken with its head cut off, "Rebs on the train Rebs on the Train" then The Partisan Rangers exited with Two confederate officers as Prisoners.  Dave Riker and Scott Hope took control of the gold and prisoners, excellent, as we welcomed them into our fortifications.  They commenced to shoot the lock off the strong box and accidentally shot a few of my men.  Then a few more and another, then the rest of the confederates pounced upon us and a good fight ensued.  OOPS Talk about getting caught with your britches down! Well, the ending is obvious the train took off leaving us dead or dying in the field.

It was a great weekend and my thanks go out to all who attended.  Special thanks to The Feeneys for there telegraph impression, the Metzger boys and the Partisan Rangers, Doc Dave Riker and the rest of his Hooligans, Ross Lamoreaux who rolled and packaged all the period cartridge rations, And the 75th boys who galvanized to give the confederates a few more numbers (that's a switch).  Thanks also to Pfluger our bugler for his and Brian's echo taps salute to the men of the Hunley and of course the 75th, and it's wonderful cooks Jungle and me of course.   Thanks to Col. Dovel for letting me run the Army for the weekend.  It's not as easy as it looks.
Thanks again.
Barry King 
 

On April  24, 2004, as camps such as Vero’s Cow Cav Camp, dedicated a monument to WBTS Soldiers in Sebastian, the 14th brigade prepared from both ends to meet at West Palm Beach’s Woodlawn cemetery. At 8 am both the north and south ends began to move. The new Okeechobee Camp Commander, Doyle Rigdon (photo on left), stopped on his way to the meeting place at Yeehaw Junction to honor a veteran in Highlands County on private property. The South end left a cemetery down by Dadeland, in Miami, as the north end honored vets buried at Fort Drum. As the Miami Camp was at the City of Miami Cemetery honoring 59 vets, including William M. Burdine of Burdine’s stores, the North end was Honoring William Raulerson who built Okeechobee county. The Fort Lauderdale group, William Henry Harris Camp, then took control of the Motorcade as they honored vets buried in the Fort Lauderdale area, as the north end continued south heading into Fort Pierce Cemetery to Honor the camp name sake George W. Thomas. As the south motorcade came into north Broward county, the north end was in Jenson Beach honoring Col. Destuben. Finally the north end finished at Fern Hill cemetery in Stuart and began the trip to meet the south camps at Woodlawn. The Seventh Florida Vol. Infantry, commanded by Capt. Bob Todd, split into two platoons to support this fine project. Capt. Todd commanded the south troops and Lt. Bob Enik commanded the north reenactors. Special thanks to Lt. Enik (photo right) as he also provided his small boarding cannon for the salutes at each cemetery.

The Greathouse clan, and Doyle Rigdon of the tenth Tenn., were also present to assist the SCV in honoring the vets. In addition to the mentioned re-enacting units the SCV Camps of  Geo. Perry Miami, William H. Harris of Fort Lauderdale,  William Burdine camp of Coconut Creek, The James Patton Anderson camp of  West Palm Beach, Geo. W. Thomas Camp of Fort Pierce and  Raulerson/Underhill Camp of Okeechobee were also represented. When all was done, we had honored 161 Vets buried in 7 counties, in 15 cemeteries and drove a combined 525 miles. 
 

photo at left          10th Tenn. Co. A.    Calvin Greathouse and sons   perform duties of the honor guard

photo at right  7th Florida Inf. Co. B. and 10th Tenn. Co. A.

At left is a photo of Mr. William Frank Tucker, of Miami area.  He is 84 years old and a grandson of a Confederate Veteran, Capt. William Glover, Alabama.  Mr. Tucker is also a war Veteran and he spoke of D-day and the deaths he saw as a soldier.  He brought with him an actual medal belonging to his ancestor for us to hold and see.