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Confederate Army
Sharpshooter
July 4, 1907, Wynnewood, Oklahoma, in
his favorite rocking chair on the front porch sits an old Confederate Army
Sharpshooter by the name of William H. Eskridge. Having served in the Cleveland
Guards, a volunteer North Carolina regiment, William remembers his life during
the War Between the States. After dinner he has returned to the porch, and the
children have returned to sit nearby to hear more stories. Bill, one of the neighborhood children
is asking a question, “How did you become a sharpshooter in the army?” “Well, sir, it was like this, I had been
shooting meat for the table since I was 12 years old.” Billy interrupts, “You were allowed to
shoot a gun when you were only 12?” “Yes, sir, my father John Green Eskridge
had taught us boys how to shoot, and I was the best shot of the group. So it
became my job to help out the family by bringing home meat for dinner,” William
answered. “Often Squirrels were the animals closest to the house, and shooting
a squirrel is not easy. You must shoot them in the head or you would lose most
of the meat. You had to be very patient and wait to get just the right shot and
that is just like the sharpshooter’s job.” “When I enlisted at age 16, I was
already well known in Cleveland County as one of the best shots around. So when
the sergeant said, “You are going to be one of our sharpshooters,” I said “OK.”
The Sergeant marched us over to get our rifles at Fort Fisher on the coast of
North Carolina near Cape Fear where the blockade runner’s ships brought in
firearms from England. The Sergeant told us a story about our
rifles “At the first meeting of the British NRA at Wimbledon in 1860, Queen
Victoria opened the meeting by firing a specially prepared Whitworth rifle from
a mechanical rest at a target 400 yards away. It was a bull’s eye, the bullet
striking very close to the center. I expect you to do even better.” “400 yards!” I said in awe. “My job in the war was to take the
Yankee officers out of the battle, but being a God-fearing young man, I chose
to only wound them enough so that they could not fight.” “Thank goodness,” Billy said. I chuckled and went on, “The time I
remember most is when me, W.F. Gold, and Henry Smith captured Six Union
Officers without firing a shot. We dressed up as Union soldiers and sneaked
into their camp late at night, cut a hole in the back of their tent, and caught
them playing poker. We tied their hands, gagged them, and marched them back to
our camp. I was made a corporal for doing that.” “Wow, that was a great story,” said
Billy. “Now, who wants ice cream?” William
said. “We do!” all the children answered. |
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