We continued on the road heading west when I saw a small sign on the road captioned “Guinea Station”. I suddenly put on the brakes. Thank heavens there were no cars behind me! I turned right into the parking lot near a small white frame house. Nancy had gasped and held on for dear life when I executed my strange maneuver.
I looked at her and said “Guinea Station”. She just looked at me like I was crazy. I hopped out of the car and went to the door of the small frame house. It was closed and the park personnel were gone for the day. Nancy followed me up to the house with a quizzical expression on her face.
I said, “This is where Stonewall Jackson died.”
It sort of hit her that this (for us “Southerons”) was hallowed ground.
We looked in the window and viewed the small Spartan room with the double rope-trellis bed where he uttered his last words at 3:15PM on Sunday, May 10, 1863:
“Let us cross over the river and rest in the shade of the trees.”
His wife, Anna, was present with him when he died. As was the custom, their infant daughter had been brought in for him to see before his passing.
He had died in the full faith of being with his Heavenly Father that day and was much comforted by his wife.
It has been said that if he had lived, the Civil War would have turned out differently. All that can be said is that the Lee/Jackson collaboration was a military team for the ages.
Stonewall, we mourn your passing, and it is hard to let you part.
You were in our minds the epitome of the Southern Warrior’s Heart.
Your name struck fear and your presence was worth a division of men.
Your Foot Cavalry followed you faithfully and fought through thick and thin.
We miss you even today although it’s been 150 years or so.
When we think of you, we are stirred to pick up the musket and go
To the battle line and scream that spine chilling Rebel Yell.
Yankee soldiers who heard it thought they fought soldiers from hell.
So, we wish we could have been there at Manassas and Chancellorsville
To be in that triumphant company that drove the enemy from the field.
We will always be grateful for life’s lessons you bestowed
On your sons and daughters from those times of long ago.